Fifty shades and the Real Girl
by amgomer
Summary: Fifty Shades alternative universe - Christian Grey finds Anastasia Steele's looks, innocence, clumsiness, and periods of selective mutism enchanting, but he gets more than he bargained for when he shows her his NDA and Playroom... perhaps there is more to Ms. Steele than he imagined.
1. Chapter 1: And So It Began

**Hello readers! This is a multi-chapter, alternative universe, short (somewhere between 5 and 10 chapters) of when Ana met Christian. In some ways it follows the books, but in the most important ways, it doesn't. It's meant to be amusing. Remember people – fictional characters, fictional characters (said in my best Ben Affleck voice with appropriate finger inflections from Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back) …**

**Chapter 1 – And So It Began**

**Journal of Ana Steele, May 2011 (part 1)**

_In your life, people will come and go. Few remain forever. My friend Maggie from high school – gone off to Oxford, married a Brit at 20, and never to be heard from again. My friend Jose from college – forever. My friend, okay quasi-sister Kate, also from college – forever and ever. She's the ying to my yang, the peanut butter to my jelly, the teeter to my totter, and the extrovert to my introvert. Did I mention she's the vinegar to my water? Yes, when we are together we can be douchy. _

_When she was afflicted with the flu and begged me to interview billionaire Christian Grey in her stead for the college paper, reluctantly I agreed. I knew she must have been desperate for her to ask me to do this. I'm shy, and when I say I'm shy, I mean shy to the point where people think I'm a mute at first meeting. I don't meet new people well, especially one-on-__one__. In groups, I'm a scraggly wallflower. If the one-on-on is with someone of the male persuasion, I'm even worse. After step-father number two, or mom's husband number three if we're keeping score, my shyness became more severe, almost like a defensive weapon. The thought of interviewing a reclusive billionaire made me wonder if Kate shouldn't have dug up the late, great, Harpo Marx and sent him to interview Grey with horn in hand. I mean really? Me? Kate must be delirious with fever._

_Kate woke up feeling miserable that morning. Normally she wakes up looking like a model from Vogue magazine, yet looking at her this morning she actually looked quite like a normal, average human. Her hair was messy, which looked really odd as she never, and I mean NEVER, had a blonde hair out of place. Her nose was read, cheeks flushed, green eyes bloodshot, and if I had to guess, her whole body ached as she was walking at a snail's pace toward the couch._

_I was nervous as all hell as she handed me the recorder and her list of questions. She was coughing too much to give me any real details regarding this Grey character, so I grabbed my keys to my ancient beetle Wanda and was about to leave when she scolded me and threw her car keys my way. Yes, my Wanda was old, but she'd been reliable in the past three years; though I had to admit the long drive to Seattle without a functioning radio would have been awful. Driving Kate's Benz was a pleasure. I, the law abiding Ana Steele, even got a speeding ticket on my way for traveling ten miles per hour over the speed limit. That never would have happened with my Wanda. After all, Wanda didn't go more than fifty-five miles per hour on her best days. What can I say – I had the need for speed today and the vehicle to achieve it. No regrets._

_So my dear journal, let me tell you about this Gray character. I expected a crotchety old man in his fifties; sue me, I'm twenty-two and fifty feels old to me. Yes, I know I'll feel differently when I'm approaching fifty, but I'm living in the now. I think I would have done okay if he was some old guy, but what did I find when I arrived at the twentieth floor of Grey House? The hottest guy I'd ever seen and he was only twenty-seven years old. Instantly I felt myself go into shy, mute Ana mode. I won't even describe how idiotic I felt when I fell through his doorway and landed on my hands and knees before him like I was bowing to an Egyptian pharaoh. I was greeted by his crotch first, face later. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die right then and there because it took every ounce of self-control I had to avoid returning my glance to his well-fitted pants._

_Have you ever seen a romantic comedy where a girl is tongue-tied when she meets a hot guy? Take that to the tenth power and you've got yourself little Anastasia Steele at the beginning of the interview. Couple that with the hot guy being a complete arrogant, controlling, douche, and I couldn't wait to get my sorry ass out of there. This was the most humiliating experience of my life. I swear he got off humiliating me during the interview, but then again, I probably deserved it because I asked him if he was gay. But you know what kills me the most? In some twisted way, I found him in some ways alluring. Yes he's attractive. Yes, when he shook my hand we shared a static shock. I guess it's from static build up when I did the nosedive onto his office carpet. He's handsome but there's something not right with him. What the hell is wrong with me that I find him fascinating on some level? Maybe Kate's right, I've been rocking my v-card way too long._

_**Journal of Ana Steele, May 2011 (Part 2)**_

_Studying for finals while working for Claytons is killing me. I feel like all I do is work and study. Kate and Jose are feeling the same way too. Kate and I can't wait to graduate and start our true, adult lives. I didn't want to work this weekend, but Mrs. Clayton needed me today, Saturday, as summer projects are continuing, so business has been booming and as she likes to say 'all hands on deck.' _

_The morning was crazy, but business slowed a bit during the lunch hour. Who do you think walked into Clayton's? Christian fricken Grey. I couldn't help but take a line from the late great Humphrey Bogart and adapt it to this situation: 'Of all the hardware stores, in all the places, he had to wander into mine.' Why? 'Mr. Sulu, selective mutism button engage! Warp factor nine!' Get me the heck out of here!_

_I know it's a coincidence that he's here at Claytons. Well, that is unless he somehow figured out that I worked that and the sadist needed someone to emotionally hurt and humiliate. I'll never live the 'Are you gay?' question down. Then to find out Kate never wanted me to ask it, rather it was more a note to herself wondering if she could somehow ask a question to make the determination if he were in fact a practicing homosexual. I mean, really, who cares? As long as whomever Grey engages with under the sheets is of age and human, who gives a flying French fry? God I wish I could swear like a sailor, as Kate does. Ray drilled it into my head to always be respectful. Sometimes it's difficult. No one in my life has made me want to swear at them more than Christian fricken Grey or CFG for short. Like I don't have enough self-esteem problems for him to pile them on with his mind games and double entendre._

_Why would a billionaire need masking tape, cable ties, and rope? I mean, duct tape I could understand – everyone needs duct tape, after all, it fixes everything. I myself have used it in an emergency to do many things: emergency hem on my pants until I could buy a needle and thread, to put the handle back on a pot, to stop a link under the sink until the plumber can get there, to keep the binding on a beloved textbook – I mean, you name it and I've used duct tape for it – even keeping Wanda's bumper on until Jose can fix it. I have a collection of duct tape in every color it comes in. All I could think was this guy was either: (1) a kidnapper; (2) a hunter perhaps; or (3) just kinky as all hell. Even though all Ray is an avid hunter, he'd never bought cable ties or masking tape for a hunting trip, so all the way around CFG creeps me the heck out. I couldn't get him out of Clayton's fast enough. Now all I have to do it go home, take a shower with a kitchen scrubber sponge to get the CFG creepiness off me, and studying can resume._

_What I can't figure out is how someone so ridiculously hot can be so unsettling. Kate thinks he's hot and that I find him attractive. Physically, yes the man is attractive. You'd have to be blind to miss it. His voice is smooth and seductive when it suits him, but sometimes the words don't quite match the tone. This is when I ended up feeling humiliated. Again, self-esteem issues here. I don't need anyone's help to doubt myself. Thanks CFG, yeah, thanks. I can't believe the man agreed to do a photo shoot for the college paper. Just about every ounce of my being was screaming inside my head for him to say no, but he said yes. More humiliation coming my way tomorrow courtesy of CFH – crap._

_**Journal of Ana Steele, May 2011 (Part 3)**_

_I'm back my dearest journal! The photo shoot went well, though I don't believe CFG liked Jose or his assistant. I have to admit when the lights were shined in Grey's eyes by accident, I had to turn away so he didn't see me smirk. His bodyguard, Taylor, caught my smirk and just looked down at his too shiny shoes. I swear even he thought it was funny._

_If you had told me that I would wish for an on switch to my selective mutism malfunction a week ago I would have said you were insane. Grey asked me to join him for coffee, but rather than remaining quiet, or saying no, which was what I wanted to say, I said: Okay. Like what the heck is wrong with me? I mean YES, ABSOLUTELY, he's HOT. The coffee outing just confirmed that while in the business world his lights are on and everyone's home, in the real world the lights are dim and no one is ever coming home. It almost felt like an interrogation – is Jose my boyfriend? Is Paul Clayton my boyfriend? Questions about my family. All that was missing was Jose's assistant and his shiny light to make the interrogation feel complete._

_On the walk back to the hotel, Grey pulled me out of the path of a cyclist and into his arms. Looking up at him all I thought was – God you're hot and for a brief moment, I wanted this unsettling man to kiss me. He didn't and I actually had mixed feelings about that. What is wrong with me? I'm beginning to wonder if I'm slowly going mad. Needless to say, once I got into the parking lot and out of sight from humanity, I sat on the curb and cried. I hate PMS. I was also grateful that studying for the remainder of the day helped me avoid Kate's inquisition once I returned home._

_**Journal of Ana Steele, May 2011 (Part 4)**_

_Dearest Journal: The lessons that I, Ana Steele learned today are: (1) don't sign for expensive gifts from billionaires even if they are first edition Tess books; and (2) don't drink while having PMS and access to your cell phone or you wake up in a billionaire's bed wearing his shirt while in his hotel - virginity intact, while your roommate bangs his brother. At least I got to puke on CFG's shoes – my humiliating consolation prize._

_Not much more to say on this topic other than I'm getting shallow and allowing CFG's good looks to over-ride my sense of foreboding when it comes to his personality. Stupid hormones and the way he looks after working out. On top of that I agreed to join him for dinner tonight as he wanted to explain something to me. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to ask him if he was going to explain why he was so weird. I swear, where is an ax murderer when you need him? It's probably Grey with my luck. Why did he have to be cute? Couldn't he have had a few big warts or moles on his face? Anything to make the man less attractive._

_There is nothing worse than realizing you have become a weak, adult woman who is quickly becoming a slave to her hormones. Crap!_

Kate spent two hours playing primp the virgin for my evening with Christian Grey. I don't feel like me anymore. I feel like a brunette version of Kate, even though I'm wearing my best set of work clothes. As I step outside of Claytons at the end of my shift, I see the Audi SUV waiting for me, with Taylor at the door awaiting my arrival. Hormonal Ana is ready to just sigh breathlessly at him, while real Ana, who is generally tucked away in the recesses of my shy mind is bordering on an adrenaline rush prepared for just about any eventuality. I even have the pepper spray Ray gave me at the ready in my pants pocket.

When I step into the car, Grey compliments me on my hair in his oh so suave voice, one of the many he has in his arsenal of inflections. The dark suit and crisp white shirt he's wearing are worth more than Wanda and my bank account combined even when multiplied by ten. Yes, without saying a word, I already feel like an undeserving charity case.

After a short drive we end up parked in the underground lot of a small, three-story building. I can't help but clutch my purse and check my back pocket that holds my pepper spray. He must see my alarm because he explains the building has a helipad on the roof and his helicopter is there. He called it Charlie Tango. Adrenaline coursed through my body as the worst nightmares about him felt like they were upon me. All the while he was explaining that Charlie Tango was a Eurosomething – eurotrash maybe, model whatever that was the safest in its class. Did that mean its escape-proof I wondered? What did I get myself into?

"Where are we going?" I couldn't help but ask with a shaky voice.

"What I have to show you is in Seattle," he replied as we took the elevator.

Not surprisingly, I can't find any words and I allow him to strap me into Charlie Tango. I feel like I'm on death row and being strapped into the electric chair by the best looking executioner I've ever seen. I'm now officially terrified of what he's going to show me, but exhilarated as soon as the helicopter takes flight in the evening sky. The trip was serene and beautiful. Though I have mixed feelings about Grey, he's an excellent pilot. I'm shocked when we land on the top of a Seattle high rise.

"This is Escala," he announces as he unstraps me from my chair.

"Escala?"

"It's where I live," he explains as he takes my hand and pulls me toward the elevator. I can't help but wonder if I picked up static from Charlie Tango because when Grey touches my hand, I feel the same tingle I felt in his office. All I can hope is that it is just static.

His apartment is huge and gorgeous, but sterile. It feels like it's been staged for a magazine shoot but no one really lives there. After serving us each a glass of white wine, he escorts me to the formal living room. Once I'm comfortable on the couch, he excuses himself and heads deeper into the apartment, returning a minute later with a manila file folder in his hand.

"What's that?" I ask curiously.

He looks uncomfortable for a moment before he replies, "It's an NDA. My lawyers insist."

"NDA?"

"I'm a public figure Anastasia. I need to protect my privacy," he explains with a hint of harshness in his tone of voice.

"Again, what exactly is an NDA?" I can't help but ask.

This time the look he gives me is one that makes me feel stupid. "It's a non-disclosure agreement. It basically states anything you know or hear when you are with me will not be discussed with anyone."

"And if I don't sign it?" I whisper nervously taking a rather large sip of my wine, as I try to find my courage and my big girl voice in the fermented grapes.

"Then our evening is over and I'll fly you back to Portland," he states flatly, but I hear the hint of anxiousness in his voice.

After another large sip of wine I begin to find my big girl voice. "I've never been in a relationship before, but even I realize this isn't normal. You know that right?"

"Again, I must protect my privacy. I'm a public figure. I can't have my friends selling me out to the tabloids," he explained.

I can't help but stare into his grey eyes as he speaks to me. He might be in his late twenties, but there's something harsh about him, which I knew, but also something quite vulnerable. "So what you are saying is that even though in your interview you claimed to be a good judge of character with regard to business, in your personal life you aren't the almighty CEO?"

He's too quiet.

"Life is about taking risk Mr. Grey," I continue taking the pen from him. "I've read enough books to know that if you don't put the real you out there, you get exactly what you deserve; either a bad relationship or a loneliness so profound you bury it beneath layers of dysfunction. Where do I sign?"

My words shock him, but he points to the last page and I immediately sign. "Aren't you going to read it first?"

"Why? I value my privacy as much as you do, so if you think for one minute I'm going to discuss our conversations with anyone you are mistaken. It doesn't take a signed legal document for me to act like an adult." I will admit to sounding like a petulant child while throwing out the latter part of that phrase, but sue me, I enjoy irony. For example, The Random of Red Chief is one of my favorite stories of all time. Luckily he doesn't do more than glance at the signature on the document as I signed Anastasia Sevastova, the tennis professional, rather than Steele quite messily. I may be naïve; I may be innocent, but I'm not stupid. I fold up my copy of the document and place it in my purse.

As he brings a tray of cheese, crackers and fruit from the kitchen, I ask him, "So now will you explain why you don't do the standard heart and flowers relationship thing?"

His posture changes. He's feels taller and more menacing and intimidating; yet his voice is very matter of fact and commanding. "The only relationships I have are contracted dominate/submissive ones? I don't do hearts and flowers – I fuck hard."

I know I'm looking at him as if I'm lost, but I whisper, "Dominate/submissive? I don't understand. I've never heard of it." I try to ignore his fuck hard statement.

"Come, let me show you my playroom and you will understand," he explains as he takes my hand and pulls me up the steps.

The only thing I can imagine is your typical upscale playroom – one that has a massive screen for Xbox and PlayStation, and also includes a bar, pool table, and a poker table. To say I was wrong was an understatement. He takes me to a locked room, pulls the key from his pocket and opens the door. I know he's going to be watching my reaction. Once the soft lights are turned on, I see red walls, a massive bed with assorted restraint devices on each post, and mounted on the walls look like mid-evil torture devices. _Holy fuck!_ I swore in my head and I don't care. The room however smells enticingly of citrus and leather. I walk past trunks and chests of drawers as I look around the room. I'm speechless. I stop at a cross with shackles mounted on the far corner wall and just stare at it. All I can imagine is being strapped up there completely vulnerable while Grey and his friends get in line to violate me any way they chose.

"We've been in here for five minutes Anastasia, say something," he states.

I can't turn to look at him. I can feel my breathing becoming sharper as a panic attack takes hold. I feel like I'm trapped in my worst nightmare as I'm losing the struggle to breathe. The second I sink to my knees, he's at my side. When he touches my shoulder, the panic attack ceases and I shimmy away from him. "Don't touch me!"

After a few minutes of leaning against the bed, I find my calmer, analytical voice. "Why me?"

"You've intrigued me since you fell into my office. You would be surprised at how many woman are into this."

For the first time since I've met him, my shyness is gone. "Explain to me how this works."

"In a nutshell, we sign a contract outlining what we are willing and not willing not do; I run a background check and if they meet my standards, they surrender in every way to me and I dominate them in any way I please," he explains.

"So you ran a background check on me?" I'm stunned when he nods. "That's invasion of privacy."

"It's public information Anastasia."

"And you want this with me why?"

"I just do. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

"And women really line up for this?"

"I've never had a problem finding one."

"What did I do that would ever make you believe I would want to submit to and be humiliated by you? Or for that matter even have sex with you?" I can feel my anger consuming me as I yell: "Or did you smell a virgin and want something untouched so only you can have the privilege of defiling me? Because if you think for one minute I'd ever allow you to chain me up in here like a sex slave and fuck me hard as you say, then you are sorely mistaken."

"Virgin?" he mutters in disbelief.

I nod.

"If I had known, I would never have brought you down here," he sighs nervously. "Why did you agree to come here then?"

"I agreed to go to dinner with you because you confound me. I didn't think I was coming here to the red room of pain to be tied up, beaten, and fucked," I yell at him as I quickly head toward the door, I add, "I'd say it was nice knowing you Mr. Grey, but I'd be lying."

He grabs my arm as I approach the door and turns me toward him. I panic. Ray's training kicks in and I calm myself before shooting the pepper spray into his eyes, kneeing him in the groin, punch him in his nose, before kicking him in the sternum. He may be handsome and built, but he goes down like Humpty Dumpty. As he falls, he hits his head on some metal, wheel, fetish device causing a laceration at his hairline and the blood to flow freely. I run from the room, grab my purse, and get the hell out of Escala. I'll find my own way back to Portland.

The elevator ride feels like it takes forever, but as I briskly walk through the Escala lobby and to the street, I wave down the first cab I see. It stops in front of Escala. When the rear passenger door opens, I'm shocked to see Taylor climbing out. "Hello and goodbye Taylor." I don't wait for him to answer. I know what he will find in the red room of pain. I decide that I'll worry about the consequences of assaulting Seattle's second richest citizens, behind Bill Gates, tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2: Ana's Heaven

**Chapter 2: Heaven is in the Eye of the Beholder**

'Well, it didn't take long for Ms. Steele to bolt from Escala. I knew she would,' I thought to myself. Her eyes revealed her shock, fear, and disgust. She sure as hell didn't want to see anyone associated with Mr. Grey, much less his head of security. I can't wait to collect my $100 winnings from Welch – I told him she's say no.

I use my key to call the service elevator to head up to the penthouse. There is little doubt what awaits me – Mr. Grey with a glass of expensive scotch, sitting at his piano, playing depressing music; either that, or on the phone yelling at someone from Grey House who did nothing wrong but answer their phone. It was going to be a long fucking night and Gail was in Portland visiting her sister. Me? I was supposed to stay in Portland tonight so Grey could have his fun, and I could have mine since Gail was just a few miles away. But did that happen? Nope. No sooner than Grey sat in Charlie Tango did he text me to arrange a flight to Seattle and be back before dawn. Why? Who knows? With Grey, you don't ask because half the time he doesn't tell or sometimes he doesn't even know himself.

I wasn't surprised Ms. Steele got the heck out of Escala. I mean really, what was Grey thinking? Yes, she fits his standard submissive description – long brown hair, pale skin, petite. I mean, Ms. Steele is no more than five foot two at best, a not quite a hundred pounds, and barely into her twenties. She fits the Christian Grey submissive job description requirements in that sense, though she is a bit younger.

I've met her a few times and read the background check. She's meek, shy, innocent and a bookworm. She's never had a relationship, which makes no sense because she's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Personally, I attribute the lack of dating to her mother who was on marriage number four. Not the best role model if you ask me.

Ms. Steele was raised by her mother until she was in her early teens along with husband number two – a former marine. She only lived with her mother and husband number three for a short time before returning to Ray Steele – step father number two, the one who adopted her as an infant. He clearly raised her right and was the stability in her life. Growing up in Montesano she was involved in the VFW fundraising and events, tutored reading at elementary schools and libraries, and even worked as a candy striper.

She's not someone who will get off being beaten and fucked. Hell, physically she's fragile. It's almost as if you look at her too hard and she'll break. I know if she were my daughter and Grey was trying to seduce her to the BDSM lifestyle, I'd kill him and no one would be any the wiser. Grey never stood a chance in hell with her, but he didn't have a clue. For his sake, I hope Ray Steele never has a clue about last night either, or no amount of security will keep him away from Mr. Grey.

Something was clearly wrong when the elevator doors finally opened in the penthouse and I didn't hear the piano or yelling. This lack of his standard response to something not going his way was unsettling. I couldn't help but keep my right hand near my gun just in case. I searched his office, his bedroom, the kitchen, and then I went upstairs. When I found the playroom door ajar, I knew where he was, but it was too deathly quiet.

Even though the door was ajar, I knocked. "Mr. Grey? Are you in there?"

When no answer came, I pushed the door open and took a step into the room. My eyes were instantly drawn to the ground where Mr. Grey lay crumpled on the ground laying on his side with blood pooled on the floor around his head. All I can think is please don't let him be dead.

I sent a quick text to the standby CPO, Luke Sawyer, which read _'Code Red – Escala – Rogue 1_ Down._ What's your ETA?'_

Kneeling next to Mr. Grey, I carefully roll him over onto his back and let out a sign of relief when I see he is breathing. His eyes are red and teary. Around his eyes are red to the point where it looks like a first degree burn, yet just below his eyes you can see the bruising begin. His nose is still gushing blood and clearly broken. The gash at his hairline will require a least six to eight stitches. All I can ask myself is how did little Ms. Steele do so much damage when he out-weighs her by at least seventy pounds and a foot in height. _Mental note to self: Never underestimate Ms. Steele._ Hell, I hope my Sophie can do this kind of damage if she's ever approached by someone out to harm her.

My phone vibrates and I read Sawyer's reply, 'ETA 3 minutes.' I'm grateful he's close by. While I wait for Sawyer, I check Mr. Grey for other injuries. While he's unconscious, I check his chest and see a bruise forming dead center on his sternum. _Ms. Steele knows where to hit to bring someone down, probably courtesy of her adoptive father Ray._ _If she got him there, you know she got him where he lives. He's going to be quiet sore tomorrow._

"Holy shit!" Luke exclaims as he enters the playroom and sees Grey. "What the fuck happened?"

I couldn't resist giving him a smirk. Mr. Grey's wounds weren't life threatening, unless you count the death of his pride if word ever got out that he pounded into the ground by a girl. "He propositioned a ninety-five pound girl and this was her way of saying no."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Go to his room and get his workout clothes," I order. "I'm going to change into mine."

Once Luke and I are back, we change Mr. Grey into his kickboxing gear, turn the camera off in the elevators, and head down to the basement gym. It's late enough that no one should be there. Time to stage this like an accident during a workout. I have Sawyer bring down the laundry detergent from the staff laundry so I can dip some on the boxing gloves. I know Grey is allergic to it, so hitting him in the face is the cover and the allergic reaction to the glove hit should explain the redness around the eyes. Well hopefully. Before we can get him to the boxing matt, we hear an ambulance arrive. Ms. Steele must have called them before we could. At least she didn't leave him to rot.

Five minutes later Mr. Grey is carted away in an ambulance, with me riding shotgun as security and Luke following in the SUV. All I can do is hope that I get to see Mr. Grey awake before anyone else does. Reluctantly, I pull out my phone and dial Dr. Trevelyan, his mother.

"This is Dr. Trevelyan," she answers sweetly.

"Dr. Trevelyan, its Taylor. There's been an accident," I inform her calmly. "Mr. Grey and I were sparring, he slipped and the punch I was aiming at him hit him in the face. He's unconscious and his nose is broken. Our ETA to Harborview is eight minutes. Can you meet us?"

"Carrick and I will be there in twenty-minutes. Dr. Reed is on-call. I'll have her meet you in the emergency room."

A short time later, I'm in the examining room with Mr. Grey, while Sawyer stands guard. Dr. Reed has the IV started and has examined him. His head is stitched and his nose stuffed with gauze to stop the bleeding. Slowly he is starting to regain consciousness. When his eyes open, he's clearly dazed seeing me standing before him in my workout gear. Before I can say anything, Sawyer pokes his head in and informs me that Dr. T and Mr. G are coming down the hallway.

"Mr. Grey, I'm so glad you are awake. I apologize for hitting so hard. I hadn't realized you slipped," I stated loudly as I look him square in his eyes hoping in his dazed state he would take the clue.

"Christian!" Dr. T's voice cried out seeing him awake as they entered the room. "How many times have I told you to not spar so intensely? It was only a matter of time before you had an accident like this."

"Sorry mom," he sighed painfully. "Can I get out of here now? I'd like to return to the gym for my revenge on Taylor."

_Message received loud and clear_, I thought with relief. Good. I knew he wouldn't want people to know that this was no accident.

"You need a CAT scan, a chest and head x-ray, and your nose set. Once we have the MRI results back, we'll see if you need to remain overnight," she explained as she fluffed his pillow. When she turns to me she adds, "Take better care of my son. No more hard sparing."

"Don't be too hard on Taylor. Remember, he only follows Christian's orders when it comes to sparing intensity," Carrick informs her with a smirk. "He got what he was coming to him. I know Taylor will never admit it, but it probably felt good for all the heck you put your staff through at times."

Christian looked over at me and I couldn't stop myself from giving him a small smirk. He'd better give me a bonus for this, but I get the feeling I'm going to get chewed out for the smirk before the bonus happens. I don't particularly care because I know he's my boss, but I'm proud of Ms. Steele. I couldn't be more proud of her if she were my own daughter. She's down to earth. Mr. Grey lives in his own little fucked up tower of pain, money, and privilege.

When Dr. T and Mr. G sit on either side of the bed, I excuse myself from the room to chat with Sawyer.

"Cover story in place," I whisper to him. "Did you bring my suit?"

"It's in the SUV," he replies.

"I'm going to change. Once I'm back, go to Escala and clean up the mess on the playroom floor and any residual blood that was in the gym," I order. "I'll stand guard until we know if he's being released tonight or tomorrow. I'll call either way for a ride."

After a quick trip to the car, I head to the restroom, change into my suit and return my workout clothes to the SUV. Luckily I have Mr. Grey's phone, so I pull Ms. Steele's number from it and dial her from my phone.

"Hello," she answers cautiously.

"Ms. Steele, its Taylor. Mr. Grey's head of security," I inform her. "Are you still in Seattle? I believe we need to have a conversation and then I'll arrange your transportation back to Portland."

"I have nothing to say to Mr. Grey or his henchmen," she responds angrily. "Grey is a disgraceful human being who got what he deserved. Tell him if he ever attempts to contact me again there will be more of the same, and that goes for you lackeys too. Maybe now he'll think twice about the red room of pain and the torture he inflicts on these clearly damaged women who enter into his stupid BDSM contracts. Maybe he should get his ass out of his ivory tower and pay for therapy for anyone who applies because clearly there is something wrong with not just them, but him. That's where he needs to invest his billions – therapy and maybe a padded cell exclusively for his use. God that man makes my skin crawl. I feel like I need a shower. And another thing, tell Grey I hope I kicked him hard enough so he never reproduces because the world doesn't need a second generation pervert and arrogant asshole. He can feed Africa all day long, but it doesn't make him not an asshole. Doing good things doesn't excuse the rest of his personality. Maybe you should tell him that or better yet, if I ever see him again, I'll make sure I write it on his forehead with a sharpie after I kick his ass. The man has so much potential but he'll never achieve it because he's fifty shades of completely and utterly bat shit crazy. With regard to transportation home, I've rented a car and am almost at Centralia. Please do not contact me again and please inform Mr. Grey likewise. He will regret it if he does." As she hangs up, I can hear her calling me an asshole.

The smile on my face couldn't be any bigger. I'm even more proud of the soft-spoken Ms. Steele now. She may speak softly but she gets her point across. She's got spunk. She spent all of a few hours and she saw past the arrogant outer shell and beyond. _Little Ana 'Steamroller' Steele – Feather-Weight Champion Billionaire Ego Slayer._ Hell, she's be an Olympic gold medalist if that were truly a competitive category. I would love to see how she'd take down other arrogant jerks. Trust me, I've worked for a few and I would pay thousands for that front row ticket.

Unfortunately, I'm going to have to remind her that she signed an NDA, so she cannot discuss whatever happened at Escala tonight. I'm certain that will be an interesting conversation.

The following morning there is a contingent of media around Escala since news broke that Mr. Grey was taken away in an ambulance the night before. _And let the cover-up continue_, I thought as Sawyer pulled the SUV into the underground parking area with Mr. Grey in the back seat.

"Just issue the press release that it was a sparing accident," he yells into his phone. "I don't care. Draft it and get it released now."

We head up to the penthouse and Mr. Grey heads to the kitchen and starts the coffee pot. Sawyer grabs the file folder containing the NDA from the coffee table, walking toward the kitchen as he looks at it. He should know what it says – we all signed one. By the confused look on Sawyer's face I can't help wonder what's going through his mind. "What is it Luke?"

His green eyes go from mine, to Mr. Grey's, and back to the contract. "The woman who was here last night was the famous Latvian tennis player Anastasia Sevastova?"

"Her name was Anastasia Steele," Mr. Grey snaps back at him.

"That's not what she signed on the NDA," Sawyer informs us dropping the NDA on the breakfast bar.

Mr. Grey and I look at it at the same time and both exclaim, "Fuck!"

"Find her Taylor. Get her to sign a damned NDA. I can't have her mouthing off to anyone who will listen about my private life. She can ruin me," Mr. Grey orders.

Clearly, his day has gone from bad to worse. Little Ms. Steele has the billionaire by what's left of his balls. Deep down I'm proud of her, yet I know until I have a true NDA signed by her my life is going to be miserable.

"I spoke to Ms. Steele around eleven thirty last night, she was already half-way back to Portland in a rental by then. She should be at home and in bed at this point," I explain.

We watch as Mr. Grey texts his brother Elliot, who is still in Portland and has spent much of the past week in Ms. Kavanagh's bedroom. A moment later, Mr. Grey's phone rings and he answers angrily.

"Elliot, is Ms. Steele there? I need to speak with her." After a pause, Mr. Grey continues and puts the call on speaker. "What the hell do you mean she's not with you? She left here at 9:30 last night."

"Didn't you have the decency to drive her back here after you had your way with her?" Elliott asked bitterly.

"I'm in Seattle. We flew here last night in Charlie Tango. She wasn't happy and she left. According to Taylor, she was half way back to Portland at around midnight last night in a rental car," he replied.

"Maybe she has a brother that's more your taste," Elliot retorts.

She was just approaching Centralia when I spoke to her," I inform them.

"What the fuck Christian! You drag her all the way to Seattle by helicopter and you don't bring her back? Hell, you could have had Joe fly her back. He's always on standby. Hold on a second."

We hear Elliot leave whatever room he's in and closes the door. Then we hear the sound of keys being pressed on another cell phone. "Ana, it's Elliot. Call me when you get this message. I'm worried that you haven't made it back from Seattle and I want to make sure you are all right before Kate wakes up and has a stroke. Call me."

"Her phone went right to voicemail and she's not in her bedroom," Elliot informs us. "Fuck! If something happens to her because you needed to peacock by flying her down to Seattle in your fancy chopper, I will never forgive you. I'm going to get dressed, grab Jose Rodriguez and we're going to start the drive toward Seattle. Meanwhile, why don't you gather your resources, figure out where she rented the car from, and follow the tracking device that's in all rental cars. We'll be on the road in thirty minutes. I'm telling you right now Christian, once she's found you and I are having a talk – big brother to little brother." People must be in the mood to hang up on us today. Even Elliot couldn't get off the phone fast enough.

Within ten minutes, Mr. Grey has both Welch and Barney attempting to track Ms. Steele's rental vehicle and we are taking off in Charlie Tango toward Portland. I hate flying. Given Mr. Grey's concussion, Joe is flying and Sawyer and I are riding shotgun. Our flight path takes us south following I-5. Once we approach Centralia, we know we have to be more vigilant.

Twenty minutes later my phone vibrates. I have a text from Barney that reads: _Rental = Silver Hyundai Elantra, tag: MDN-227, last known location ten miles north of Castle Rock. Timestamp: seven hours ago. Signal stopped at that time._

A minute later my phone vibrates. I flip the switch on the control panel so we can all listen hands-free. "Taylor"

"It's Welch. Here's what I found out from the highway patrol in Castle Rock. They received a call of a black SUV running a silver car off the road just after midnight on I-5 but found no evidence of a crash. after searching for four hours with ten units. The person who made the call was arrested for DUI, so it might be nothing. They are back out now full-force since its daylight."

"Ten miles north of Castle Rock means if she went off the road, she could be in the water. The vehicle could be submerged," Sawyer commented. "What's the police frequency on the search?"

"Police ban 154.77," Welch replied. "I'll keep digging."

As Luke adjusts the radio to listen to the police ban the sound of the search flows through our headphones. As we listen to the back and forth between units we finally catch a visual in the distance of the search units. We're still two minutes out when we hear:

_Water team six reporting in. We have a submerged vehicle, upside down in the river. Diver team is heading into the water to check for bodies._

"Fuck!" Mr. Grey mutters angrily.

Being Christian Grey has its benefits, especially when you offer the use of your helicopter for the search. We land on the nearby grass before we join the Deputy Chief of the Washington State Patrol in the makeshift command center.

_Water team six dive report – Vehicle: Hyundai Elantra, color silver. No survivors found. No bodies found. Driver's side window broken, Airbags did deploy on impact. Recovered woman's purse. Identification: Anastasia Steele. Contents: cell phone, wallet, and other personal effects. All indications are that driver struggled to escape vehicle as it filled with water. Indications that driver was pinned by the steering wheel. Recommendation: begin river search for remains and call in canine units for another river bank search for possible survivor or remains._

"Agreed," the Deputy Chief informed water team six before nodding to his second in command who gave the orders to adjust the search plan.

"How do you know Ms. Steele, Mr. Grey," the deputy chief asks.

"My brother is dating her roommate and when she didn't return home last night from a trip to Seattle, he was worried, so he called me to follow the highway."

I have to hand it to Mr. Grey, he didn't miss a beat.

"I heard about your accident on the news this morning. Which one of these two gentleman has the bad luck of knocking out the boss?" he asks.

"That would be me," I replied.

_HQ this is air unit two reporting – body, female in the water – approximately one-half mile south of water team six's current location on the west bank. No sign of movement. Water team six head our way. Medical Unit One, you are approximately one mile from the body location. You will need to park and proceed on foot to location. Please respond ASAP. Preparing to drop stokes and rescue team into the shallow water._

I feel like the wait is taking forever. Mr. Grey looks pale. I know if Ms. Steele doesn't survive he'll be devastated and blame himself. Sawyer doesn't look much better. I know he's seen enough death in Afghanistan that he walked away and became a CPO, which to him meant high priced security – a cake job. We all hate waiting. It's the one thing we have in common.

_Rescue unit one – patch me through to PeaceHealth St. John's in Providence. _When they reply they continue: _This is Rescue Unit One PHSJ, we have a female, approximate age 20-25, brown hair, blue eyes. Unconscious. Signs of possible broken lower left leg, left collarbone, and compound fracture of the left arm. Body temperature ninety-five point five degrees. Possible skull fracture and significant blood loss from wounds on head and neck. Suffering from mild hypothermia. Height: approximately 5'2" and between ninety and a hundred pounds. BP is 80/50, respirations are 15, shallow. and irregular, pulse is 40. NS IV started. Life flight ETA 20 minutes._

And then we hear her…

"_Holy heck I died and I'm the only virgin in man-candy heaven." Her dazed voice is barely a whisper, but it's her. I can see Mr. Grey let out the breath is was holding since we first set foot in the tent._


	3. Chapter 3: Conspiracy Theory

**Chapter 3: Conspiracy Theory**

The past twenty-four hours have been potentially earth-shattering. How do I not have control of this situation? I'm Christian Grey. My life is about control, yet in the past day I didn't relinquish control – it was ripped from me by a ninety-five pound, shy brunette who now loathes me. Hell, I'm still struggling to come to terms with the two Anastasia Steele's I've seen – painfully shy, seemingly submissive, quiet, and soft-spoken with a bit of a smart mouth versus the person who defends her honor and can put both me and Taylor in our places with biting words while she exudes self-confidence – never mind her self-defense skills. She is mind boggling, annoying, stubborn and at the same time ridiculously arousing - the dichotomy that is Ms. Anastasia Steele.

If one more state trooper tells me I look like I've seen better days with my broken nose and black eyes, I'm going to scream. It's bad enough the press managed to secure a picture of me in this condition. Taylor is enjoying that a bit too much, solely because both he and Sawyer know the unreported truth. We've been sitting in the waiting room for over three hours. During that time Elliot, Kate and Rodriguez joined us. I sent Joe in Charlie Tango to bring Anastasia' father, Ray Steele here. Rodriguez accompanied Joe since he's good friends with the Steele family. I couldn't get rid of Rodriguez fast enough, so it was the perfect excuse. They should be arriving back in the next few minutes.

Anastasia is still in surgery for the fractures in her arm. What we know about her injuries at this point is limited. Her legs aren't broken but her thighs are heavily bruised from the steering wheel. She has a significant skull fracture, a severe concussion, three broken ribs, a fractured left collarbone, and all three major bones in her left arm are broken in multiple places. After she regained consciousness for a few moments with the rescue crew, she had lapsed back into unconsciousness and hadn't woken up since.

Two more witnesses to her accident, if you could call it that, came forward. The police are stating off the record that a late model, black SUV with tinted windows chased her vehicle for three miles before catching up with her and slamming into the side of her vehicle repeatedly until it flipped off the road and tumbled into the water like a rolling dice. She was lucky to be alive.

Taylor, Sawyer and I discussed the ramifications of this an hour ago, exploring what was known and true, versus what Ms. Steele might assume was true. Taylor pointed out that Ms. Steele might believe it was me who attempted to get her out of the picture due to the black SUV – even he didn't say the words attempted murder as he knew I had nothing to do with it. I'd spent the night in a hospital bed and he spent the night in a chair outside of my room. Still the potential was there for us both to be in trouble. We'd sent Sawyer to the state trooper barracks to see what he could discover. He was good with the troopers as his cousin is a trooper back in New York, so he took off his tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt and went in as a regular guy who happens to work for me.

There were only a few things on my mind: What would Ana say when she woke up? Would she reveal my secrets since technically she didn't sign her own name onto the NDA? Did she believe I would try to kill her and would she tell the police when they interview her? I can be royally screwed here.

"Elliot, just stop!" I hear Katherine Kavanagh shriek at my brother. After announcing she's going to get coffee, she leaves the floor. Elliot follows. Normally Elliot taps it and runs as he calls it, but apparently Kavanagh is different, at least to him. To me she's a female version of Elliot in terms of notches on her bedpost, but while Elliot is a happy and amenable guy, she's just a fucking bitch. I mean, why would she request that Ana ask me if I'm gay during the interview. That's just unprofessional. And here my brother is trying to console her while Ana, her roommate of nearly four years, is in surgery. Clearly Kavanagh is holding on by an emotional thread. It's surprising to see Kavanagh is capable of caring about something other than herself. After all, rumor has it, she's her father's daughter and he's known to be the most self-centered man on the west coast.

The next time I looked up, Rodriguez was coming down the hallway toward us accompanied by a tall man with greying light brown hair in his late forties or early fifties who I could only assume was Ray Steele. There was no missing the concern etched on his face. All I knew about Ray Steele was he was her step-father. He enjoyed fishing and carpentry. He was also taciturn and Ana adored this man with every ounce of her being. I get to my feet as they arrive and greet him with my hand extended. "Mr. Steele, I wish we could have met under better circumstances. I'm Christian Grey."

I'm shocked when he eyes me suspiciously. When he looks me over I feel like he can see inside my soul, just like I felt with Ana. Finally he takes my hand and gives it a firm shake. "I know who you are Mr. Grey. My question is how do you know my daughter? Clearly by the looks of you, she knows you and wasn't a fan."

Taylor and I both pale slightly. "I'm not sure I follow. I met Ana when she interviewed me for the school newspaper when Ms. Kavanagh was indisposed."

"Then what happened to your face?" Ray asked not taking his eyes from mine.

"Sparing accident."

"You keep telling yourself that Sparky," Ray comments before turning his attention to Taylor. "Are you sticking with the boss's story son?"

"It's the truth," Taylor replies.

Ray turns to Jose and with disgust says, "Just what I need, my Annie hurt, and while I wait I have to deal with a lying dumbass and his ex-marine lackey who is dumber than a box of rocks – typical muscle. It's a fucking embarrassment. Kids today have no moral compass. What is this world coming to?" Rodriguez merely nods in agreement.

"I take offense at your remarks," I state belligerently.

Ray turns back to us and calmly states, "Mr. Grey, let me make one thing clear to you, I don't give a damn how much money you have, or how much your suit costs – I can smell a screw up and a liar a mile away, no amount of money or perfume-filled girly-man body wash takes that stench away. It's like trying to take the stink off a skunk with air freshener. No amount of money can buy class and integrity – though you fake it well. I never judge a book by its cover or bank account. It's a lesson you should have learned at least a decade ago. The only thing that reeks more coming out of you is your desperation."

I'm stunned, embarrassed, and angry. Where is the taciturn man Ana had told me about? Before I can respond, Mr. Steele adds, "If I find out you are in any way responsible for my daughter's accident I will personally guarantee you no amount of personal security will keep me away from you. It's not a threat, it's just a fact. That is my baby girl in the operating room – my only child. She's a good kid, always has been and always will be. She doesn't deserve more shit in her life than her mother brought in after our divorce. I won't let anyone harm her ever again in any way. Do I make myself clear?"

All I can do is nod in understanding before he turns to Taylor. "And Hulk, if you want to protect your boss, make sure he doesn't think with the contents of his jockstrap, because you'll find yourself with gunshots in both knees and your boss will be a eunuch when I'm through with him and that's if I'm merciful."

"Family of Anastasia Steele," the doctor announces as he enters the waiting room. Kate, Elliot, and Sawyer return to the waiting room behind him.

"I'm her father," Ray states emphatically. "How's my daughter?"

"Miss Steele is in the recovery room. She will be moved to the intensive care unit shortly to make sure she's stable before we life flight her to University of Washington Medical Center . We've repaired the four fractures in her arm with pins. Her concussion is severe with significant swelling of the brain along with a fairly significant skull fracture. The reality is the hypothermia helped keep the swelling down, which is why she regained consciousness for a few moments when they pulled her from the water. The minute her body was out of the water, the swelling began in earnest."

"Does she really need to be moved?" Ray asks.

The doctor nods. "It's the best place for her. They can keep her body temperature down, which will keep the swelling in her brain down and hopefully avoid temporarily removing a portion of her skull to give her brain the space it needs. Amazingly, her other injuries are all relatively minor in comparison – cracked ribs, the fractures in her arm and collar bone, and most likely significant ligament issues, which can be more painful than a fracture. They aren't life threatening but her recover will be extremely painful."

"Is there any permanent damage?" Kate asked.

"Honestly, we won't know until the swelling in her brain recedes and we evaluate her at that time. At this point though, I feel reasonably confident that the hypothermia saved most if not all of her cognitive function. That, plus the rescue team leader was smart enough to keep her cool after her rescue and not attempt to quickly warm her gives me hope about her recovery. Moving her is a precaution but a necessary one. We want to life flight her in two hours. I've already made arrangements with UWMC," the doctor replies. "Mr. Steele, you are welcome to accompany your daughter on the flight. If you head up to the ICU in thirty minutes, you'll be able to sit with her until we're ready to transport."

Ray nods. Sure, with the doctor he's taciturn but with me, he's anything but reserved. I can't help but feel he's getting ready to kick both Taylor and I to the curb, when the investigating officer from the Washington State Troopers enters the waiting room.

"Mr. Steele, I'm Captain Avery of the Washington State Troopers. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter."

Ray merely nods and joins the Captain in the corner of the waiting room. We can't help but listen in.

"Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your daughter?" the captain asks.

"My Annie is a student and works part-time at a hardware store. She's quiet, has few friends, and I can't imagine anyone wanting to harm her. I mean we are talking about someone who doesn't partake in any type of high risk behavior – no real drinking other than a glass of wine with dinner occasionally, no smoking or drugs, she's not promiscuous. She's just my Ana. Are you saying she was targeted by someone?" Ray asks in shock.

The captain nods. "Before your daughter lost consciousness, she said something to the rescuers about a crazy person in a car trying to kill her. Clearly she felt threatened by someone. Is this why she previously had concealed carry permits in both Washington and Oregon states?"

This news shocks me. It didn't show up on our background checks. How could Welch miss something so major? I have to admit, I can't wait to hear Ray's response.

He fidgets a bit in his chair before locking eyes with the captain as he replies, "Annie's mother made questionable choices after our divorce and my Annie paid the price. After that, I taught her how to take care of herself in case one of those choices decides to head north. She had the permits but never actually purchased a weapon."

"I need a name," the captain states firmly.

"Stephen Morton. The bastard lives near Lakeland Air Force Base in San Antonio Texas last time I checked."

"Anyone else?"

"Not that I'm aware of at this time, but I will be keeping my eyes open," Ray replies as he takes the troopers card.

"Do you know why your daughter was in Seattle yesterday?"

"I don't have a clue. As far as I knew, she didn't know anyone there. Clearly, I was mistaken," Ray mutters unhappily. "What I don't understand is why she was in a rental car when she has a car. From what I understand her car is still in Portland. It just doesn't make any sense. Even if she went to Seattle for a job interview, she would have brought her car."

"Does she have a boyfriend?" the captain continued.

"Not that I've been made aware of," Ray replied. "After her mother's track record, Ana was very hesitant with the idea of dating. She didn't want to be like her mother. I've see her every other weekend since she went away to college. In all that time she never mentioned a single date."

"A girlfriend perhaps?"

"I don't believe she is so inclined, but stranger things have happened," Ray replied shaking his head. "But I really don't think so. Her time in Texas left her withdrawn when it came to relationships. She let few people get close to her after that."

"I've arranged for a trooper to stand guard here and then accompany the flight to UWMC at which point she will be watched over by officers from the Seattle Police Department and hospital security. Based on witness statements, we believe this wasn't a random incident. We hope when your daughter is conscious, she will be able to shed more light on the incident. The car that ran her off the road was retrieved this morning near Mount Saint Helens. It's a stolen late model black Audi SUV. It was reported as stolen last night in Seattle, so our best guess is she was followed after she rented the car. The only fingerprints in the vehicle belong to the owners and their children. They are still doing a full DNA sweep of the vehicle, but that will take time."

Taylor, Sawyer and I immediately glance at each other. I know we are all thinking the same thing – someone is trying to kill Ana and set me up as the killer, but why? _I'm potentially so fucked!_

Three days have passed since Ana was life-flighted to UWMC. I can't focus on anything. I've been staring at the same spreadsheet in my home office for the past hour. According to Elliot, who is receiving his information from Kate Kavanagh, they were bringing Ana out of her medically induced coma this morning as the swelling is down. Its early evening and I couldn't help but wonder if she was awake and more importantly how much she remembered.

I want to be there when she wakes up, but I know that my presence would not be welcome by her or her father. The moment the transfer between facilities occurred Ray Steele limited the visitors list to himself, Kate, and Rodriguez. Ana's mother and her fourth husband Bob were on vacation in in New Zealand and didn't bother flying back. I know Ray was relieved as he didn't want to cope with his ex-wife and her latest disposable husband, but he also felt bad because he knew he would have to explain to Ana why her mother couldn't be bothered coming to see her when she almost died. Little by little the pieces of Anastasia Steele's life were being revealed.

I had Welch investigate Stephen Morton, her mother's third husband. Ana was a teenager back then and after living in Texas for a few months returned to Ray in Montesano and cut her mother off for well over a year. All I've been able to find out about the Morton months is that Ana returned to Montesano and Ray taught her how to defend herself. That in and of itself said a great deal about her months in Texas. It also explains her reaction to the playroom and my touching her when she tried to leave. If I had known that she was a virgin and about her time in Texas, I never would have shown her the playroom or tried to stop her from leaving. I deserved the beating I'd gotten.

"Mr. Grey," Taylor interrupts my thoughts. "Miss Kavanagh is on her way up."

"Just what I fucking need," I growl bitterly. "Show her into my office."

A minute later, Kate Kavanagh sat before me. Her normally impeccable make-up and hairstyle gone, replaced by a ponytail, dark circles under her eyes, mascara and lip gloss. "What can I do for you Miss Kavanagh?"

"Why did you bring Ana to Seattle and why did you ditch her?" Her voice is calm and controlled, but beneath it I can hear her edginess.

"I brought her here for dinner and technically she ditched me," I replied vaguely but truthfully. "I had Taylor offer to take her back to Portland, but she declined."

"What did you do to her to make her ditch you?" There was no missing the accusatorial tone in her voice now.

"Simply put, we had different expectations for the evening. I respected her wishes and she left. And before you ask the next question, I didn't have anything to do with her accident; neither did any of my staff."

"Prove it," she demands.

"Taylor," I call out to him and he enters the office. "Please give Ms. Kavanagh a summary of the events of Miss Steele's accident."

"I arrived back at Escala that evening in a cab around 9:30ish. Miss Steele was exiting the building and got into my cab. When I arrived in the penthouse, Mr. Grey wasn't happy that Miss Steele had left and we changed and went downstairs to the gym to spar. During our match, Mr. Grey slipped and I inadvertently knocked him unconscious, breaking his nose. I called an ambulance. Mr. Grey was taken to Harborview and I called Dr. Grey to inform her of the mishap. Mr. Grey didn't regain consciousness until after midnight and remained in the hospital on pain medications until the following morning. I remained at the hospital all night, though I did contact Miss Steele around eleven thirty asking if she needed a way to get back to Portland. She explained that she rented a vehicle and was already approaching Centralia. That was the last we heard from Miss Steele. Based on the police reports, her accident was under fifteen minutes later," Taylor explained.

We both watched as Kavanagh slumped back in the chair, rested her head on the cushion and sighed. It took a good minute before she responded. "So if you are telling the truth and I'm not certain you are, there is no way you could get from here to south of Centralia in fifteen minutes."

I nod at her.

"You realize that I know you are lying about the sparing accident, right? I mean, when I saw you the next day, ignoring your nose, the redness in your face was from Ana's pepper spray, so I'm assuming she's the one who broke your nose, and probably left your balls black and blue, and then kicked you in the chest. She's good at that when a guy gets handsy. So how about the full story?" she demands.

"I stand by the events as recounted," I replied firmly.

"Perfect, then you won't mind me telling the State Police that you're the one that brought Ana to Seattle," she countered menacingly. "If you have nothing to hide, then no crime, no foul." She paused for a moment, then added, "I made certain before I came here I let a few people know where I was heading, so don't get any ideas Grey. Also, mister I value my privacy, you have quite a few security cameras in the main living areas of your apartment and the building has them in the lobby - I'm sure they will tell at least part of the story of what went on that night. One whisper to the troopers and they'll have a search warrant faster than you can yell at another employee. Missing video will be a clear indicator of lying and guilt, just so you know."

I leaned back in my chair, attempting to appear calm and in control while my world continued to slowly implode around me. "Have you spoken to Ana? Is she awake? I'm certain she will be able to corroborate the events of that night. Before you open her life up to more speculation, you should at least wait until you can speak with her." I'm grasping at straws now. All I know from Sawyer is that Ana is slowly drifting between awake and asleep. When she's barely conscious there are tears in her eyes from the pain and as soon as they give her pain medication, she remains conscious for a few minutes, giggling and commenting on man-candy heaven with beautiful male angels with badges who saved her or singing songs from the Lion King before drifting off to sleep. When conscious, she's stoned off her ass. It would be at least a day, perhaps more before she was coherent enough to participate in the investigation.

"Has it ever occurred to you Miss Kavanagh that someone might be attempting to set me up to take the fall with regard to Miss Steele's accident? After all, the vehicle used was an Audi SUV and I own four of them – all black. I'm in a cut-throat business and the accident appears to be a crime of opportunity on someone's part."

"So why did Ana leave that night? The real reason. I want to be able to trust you. Elliot said you would never harm her, so why did she leave?" Kate asked earnestly.

I sighed. "I wanted move the physical end of our relationship further and she wasn't willing. She panicked and explained she was still a virgin, and then she ran after stating she wasn't ready. I let her run. As you know from the recording of the interview, I'm a control freak. I was, for lack of better words, ridiculously disappointed."

I watched as Kavanagh got to her feet. "In one of Ana's lucid moments today she said and I quote quite breathlessly: _ the bitch had a kink mask on her face with a cigarette sticking out of her maw and ginormous fake boobs that I wanted to pop with a dart, either that or have Jose motorboat them just for fun but he could get lost in the sweaty, cheesy, crevice between them and I don't want to lose him or to have him smell all sweaty and gross. Must be a shit-ton of ugly under that mask. Hideous cow! Dammit, now I'm insulting cows. I hope Christian finds the nut job and has his goon squad beat her senseless. He should have Taylor do it, preferably with his shirt off – so fucking hot! Fuck the paperwork! _And then she giggled and passed out._"_

Try as I might, I couldn't help but glare at Taylor, who kept his face impassive. Kavanagh's impression of her roommate was dead on, right down to her breathy inflections. All I could think was _that's my girl_, but I knew that wasn't the case. _Fucking Taylor!_


	4. Chapter 4: Embracing Your Inner Marilyn

**Chapter 4**

I awake with a groan. Another day in the ICU step down unit – pain level ten million. It's like this every time since I've regained consciousness in this hospital. There's always someone at my side when I awaken; either my dad, Kate, or Jose. Everything is a blur in terms of time. I think I regained consciousness a few days ago, but my brain is scrambled so I'm not certain. All I know is that I'm on a four hour cycle – awaken in the worst pain ever, the nurse shoots something into my IV, get stoned and say stupid stuff, pass out, and an hour later awaken again feeling like I've had a few cocktails as rigor mortis sets in. Amazingly, my head still hurts, my ears are ringing, and if I move too fast my entire body aches and the room begins to spin, but the medication takes the edge off and frankly, it makes me not care about the pain – so it's a win-win for me as long as I push the nurses call button once that's done I sigh and think -_ Go me!_

"Open your eyes sleeping beauty," my dad orders. "Breakfast is here."

Slowly I open my eyes as he pulls the tray cover from the food. I'm in too much pain to move, much less eat. Besides the hospital food is below par; that, coupled with being on soft foods doesn't help the quality or flavor. I'm being polite here. It tastes worse than Kate's cooking and that's saying something.

"I'm not hungry dad." After a brief pause, I add, "Wow, I sound like Marilyn Monroe when I'm high as a kite – all soft and breathy. Maybe now is the time to re-record my answering machine message."

"Good luck with that," he replies covering up breakfast. "Your phone is probably at the bottom of the river. Kate will be by in an hour with a decent breakfast and your replacement phone. You were due for an upgrade, so she picked it up on her way home last night."

"I feel like hell Dad. My brain feels like a scrambled egg."

"Baby girl, you look like hell and have been through hell. I've been holding off the police from asking you about what happened until you are a bit stronger. Do you remember what happened to you?"

The more I think, the more my head hurts, then panic slowly sets in. "I was driving to Portland, singing along to the radio like I always do."

"So poorly," Kate laughs as she stands in the doorway with a tray of hot drinks in her hand, a small bag from a telecom store, and a bag of food. She takes the seat next to my dad.

"Okay, so I'm no Adele when it comes to my singing voice." They laugh and agree. "The ride was going well, no issues. I took a call along the way and not more than a few minutes after I hung up I noticed an aggressive driver about a half mile back in my lane. I was going maybe five miles per hour over the speed limit, but they had to be going at least twenty over the limit, so I immediately moved to the right lane thinking they would just pass and that would be the end of it. It wasn't."

Kate was in the reporter zone because she was sitting at the edge of her seat asking _and then_ even though she knew the outcome.

"It was like a freak show. The other driver had a black leather mask on with a cigarette hanging between what I assume was their lips. It was surreal, like something out of a low budget horror movie. I panicked and hit the gas, but they followed and began rear-ending my car over and over again before they pulled alongside. This went on for a few miles I think."

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and the monitors around me began beeping. I knew my pulse and blood pressure were going through the roof, but I couldn't stop it. The panic attack was setting in and even with the oxygen cannula, I was struggling to breathe. I leaned forward causing my ribs to throb and my head to spin. "Why would someone want to hurt me? Why? I don't understand."

After that, I have a vague recollection of the doctor and a nurse coming into the room, Dad and Kate ushered out, and seconds later two different medications being added to my IV, then my entire body relaxed and my breathing returned to normal. It took another few minutes before the spinning sensation stopped but at that point I was too tired to move, much less open my eyes or talk. It was like being awake, yet separated from my body. It felt odd. All I could think was – _GO ME! Pain medication is awesome!_

A few minutes passed and I heard Kate telling my dad that she was heading back to Portland and would be back tomorrow with Jose Sr. Apparently she was using my father's pick-up truck and bringing my bed and belongings to the new apartment in Seattle for when I was discharged in a few days. According to the doctors I needed to remain close to the hospital for regular follow up visits for the first few weeks. So much for finals and graduation. I felt tears dripping down my face. Whoever this crazy person was took away not only my health, but my piece of mind, my senior year, and my college graduation.

"It's okay baby," my dad soothed as he gently moved a few stray hairs from my face. "Apparently your friend Mr. Grey made arrangements for you to take your finals from Seattle. Your professors said even if you scored a zero on each final you would pass all of your classes and graduate on time. In a few days you'll feel well enough to study, and at the beginning of next week you can take your finals and if you feel up to it, we'll try to head to graduation at the end of the week."

"Okay," I reply softly, at least I believe I replied.

"Your mom called me from her vacation. Apparently Bob hurt his knee and required surgery, so they headed back to Savannah. She said to tell you that she'd see you when she could."

I think I nodded in response. Well at least I hope I did.

"Don't fight the pain and anti-anxiety medicine baby girl. The best thing you can do is sleep right now."

I don't remember falling asleep but I don't think I slept long. All I know is when I finally opened my eyes my pain level was down below five using the nurses scale of one to ten. It was nice being able to turn my head without having tears in my eyes.

"How are you holding up kiddo?" my dad asked. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, just really tired. Do you remember the first time you took me fishing on your boat?"

He smiles in response.

"I'm sorry I puked in your fish bucket after eating a worm," I laughed and it hurt but it was worth it just to hear Dad's laugh.

"You were five, so you are forgiven."

We are interrupted by a knock on the door. When it opens a tall, thin older woman with light brown hair enters wearing a lab coat over a set of royal blue scrubs. "Miss Steele?"

"Yes."

"I'm Dr. Trevelyan. I'm the attending on duty covering pediatrics and family medicine. Since your primary care physician is in Portland, he requested I visit you for the remainder of your stay and provide your immediate follow up care until you well enough to travel. My colleague Dr. Hunter visited you a number of times during your stay so far."

"Okay," I sighed

"Your vital signs have stabilized after the incident earlier. How is your pain level right now on a scale of one to ten?" she asked.

"Five, maybe six."

She pulled out a small flashlight and looked into my eyes, then had me follow the light without moving my head. This made the room begin to spin and before I knew it I threw up all over her scrubs.

"Sorry," I mumbled before I began crying.

"It's okay," she replied kindly as she cleaned herself up a bit at the nearby sink. Finally she removed her lab coat and pulled a small clear trash bag from under the sink and put it in. Luckily her scrubs were still clean. "Anastasia, you need to calm down. Crying is going to increase your dizziness and blood pressure, which will make your head hurt worse. Besides, I work in pediatrics quite frequently so my patients throw up on my more than I care to admit. It's part of the job."

"It doesn't make it any less mortifying," I reply.

She carefully loosens the sling holding my left arm against my body, before unwrapping the bandages on my finger to shoulder bandages to see how my incisions are healing from the surgery. "All in all, you are healing nicely," she tells me before hitting the call button and asking the nurse to bring in the bandage cart. It takes them ten minutes, but my left arm is once again bandaged and swaddled with the sling against my body.

"We're ordering another brain scan for early this afternoon. If the swelling in your brain has gone down enough, we are going to get you out of bed and sitting in that chair over there for a bit," she states motioning to the chair where Ray has been sitting for what seems like days. "I know from what the nurses have told me the pain medication makes you a bit loopy for a while, but it's a necessary evil right now. We also will be adding in a low dose anti-seizure medication, an anti-nausea medication, and anti-anxiety medication. All three will make you a bit sleepier and loopier, so we are going to stagger them throughout your day. This is fairly common place with a severe concussion."

The nurse hands her a computer tablet and I watch as Dr. Trevelyan types away before handing it back to her. "Overall Anastasia, how do you feel?"

"Just broken."

"And emotionally," the doctor asks.

"About the same."

She stands up and tells me it will get better once the pain level subsides a bit and that she'll be back after my test this afternoon. "Until then, rest," she orders as she leaves the room.

"Well that sounded better than last time a doctor examined you," Dad informs me.

Dad seems nervous as he paces the room a bit. I can always tell when he's nervous as he gets restless and won't look me in the eye when talking to me.

"What's wrong dad?"

"Your friend Christian Grey wants to see you. I've been keeping him away until I knew if you wanted to see him. How do you know him?"

"Kate's dating his brother." I hate keeping information from my father, but I can't tell him I went to give him my virginity and all he was interested in doing was tying me up, beating and fucking me. I don't want Dad in jail for killing a billionaire.

"Well, he's been calling ten times a day and wants to see you. I don't like him."

"Well, at least we are in agreement on something. I'll see Taylor, not Grey," I barely whisper.

"You mean the bodyguard?"

"Yes."

"You know Grey has had one of his bodyguards outside your door at all times. The main one is Sawyer. Do you want to see him?" Dad asked.

I take a deep breath and sigh. Just as I feel like my head is starting to clear slightly the nurse comes in and puts some of the new medications into my IV. "Yes, now please. I want to see him alone and get this over with."

I open my eyes and look at Dad and he's clearly not happy about it, but he does as I ask. A moment later a tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, hunk dressed in a fancy suit enters my room and my father reluctantly leaves.

"You're Sawyer?"

"Yes ma'am, Luke Sawyer and I work for Mr. Grey. He's worried about your safety," he replies sitting in the chair next to my bed.

For a big bodyguard type he's more soft-spoken than I thought he would be. "Can you help me sit up more?"

He nods and helps pull me up more in the bed and adjusts my pillows. I feel like I'm the teacup ride at an amusement park and the room begins to spin. Sawyer immediately eases me back onto the pillow, telling me to close my eyes and take a few deep breathes. It helps.

"Mr. Sawyer, I need to speak to Taylor."

"Mr. Grey is worried about you. He'd like to see you," he replies watching me closely.

I giggle as the new medicine starts kicking in. Sawyer looks at me oddly and all I can do is giggle some more and inform him I'm stoned. He laughs. "Mr. Grey be hot as all sin, but that doesn't mean I'm going to bite the apple. God, how can someone be so damaged yet still function? You're all kind of hot too by the way and you don't seem screwed up. Is being hot a requirement of the job? Can you explain it to me? I mean look at you? You should go all Zoolander rather than be a bodyguard. Wow, I can picture you in an underwear advertisement in Times Square – to hell with Beckham!"

Sawyer blushes and laughs. "Miss Steele, perhaps you should share your pain and other medications as you are out of your mind right now. How do you feel?"

And there I go giggling some more. "Free. I feel like I can't think. Kate said I always thought too much instead of living, but right now I couldn't think if your life depended on it. I'll tell you a little secret, Kate told me I should stop with overthinking, let the wall down and drop my v-card on the first hot guy I saw."

"V card?" he asked astounded. "Fuck, no wonder you took him down. I'm sorry, excuse my language."

"Fuck yeah, twenty one year old virgin here. So I'm an idiot and I get ready to give it to a fucking ginger and all he knows is a red room of torture, humiliation, and pain. Gingers have no souls you know, at least that's what South Park teaches you. He proves their theory – no soul in that man. Just the perfect, empty, exterior vessel. No sir, no soul. Not my idea of romantic, but what the fuck is that? I mean, why does he do that shit and believe someone like me would want to be tied up, chained, beaten and fucked? Where's Taylor when I need him to offer insight into the fucked up asshole that is Christian Grey? He wanted me to sign a paper, which I'm sure since you worked for him, you signed, that guaranteed my silence. Well fuck Mr. Grey and whoever taught him to be that way."

I can see Sawyer smirking now. "I liked the fact that you signed the tennis players name and not your own. It was amusing."

"Some businessman Grey is," I laugh hard, then swear at the pain. "There was no blood left for the penthouse as it was all down below in his junk. So it's true, men don't have enough blood to populate both appendages. He didn't even review what I signed. What a dumbass!"

Sawyer let out a big laugh. "It's not my place to agree or disagree with you Miss Steele."

"Did whoever hurt me have anything to do with him? I vaguely remember there being a black SUV on the street when I left his penthouse but I couldn't see who was in it."

"We're trying to determine that Miss. Steele," he replies. "Mr. Grey would like to talk to you."

"I'll pass on seeing him other than in pictures and even those make me want to vomit. I'm in no position to beat his dysfunctional ass right now and my pepper spray is gone," I laughed. "Besides, I didn't take enough psychology classes in college to deal with that hot mess."

"He has questions for you," Sawyer explained.

"And I'm sure he wants me to sign another FDA, PDA, RDA, oh whatever that thing was but that's not happening either unless I can sign it in his blood. I mean really? Who does he think he is? He doesn't even act like a real person. This is so fucked up. Hell now I'm totally fucked up too with nightmares of _Juggs McFetish_ chasing me down the highway to kill me."

"The doctors are saying you'll recover one hundred percent," he reassures me. "It'll take some time but you'll heal."

"Physically yes, mentally I feel lost."

"What do you mean?" he asks with concern.

"Just imagine never ever having gone on a date – yeah pathetic, I know. When you finally go on one, you visit the red room. I mean, after Texas I just completely and utterly shut down into my world of books and school. I was already messed up because of someone else's choices, but then my first hesitant steps out into the dating world and look at what I chose? And I can't even change and bat for the other team because my nightmares are about _Juggs McFetish_. Now I know how crazy cat ladies are made. I'm destined to be one. Where's the nearest pet rescue center?" I ask as I attempt to get out of bed. "I need a few dozen cats."

"Miss Steele, I don't believe it's a wise decision for you to attempt to get out of bed," he tells me. He keeps me upright as my legs dangle from the side of the bed. I can't help but attempt to struggle against his hold.

It's then that I see the bruises on my upper thighs. "Ooh pretty purple. Am I turning into Barney the dinosaur? I liked that show when I was little."

He presses the nurses call button, then yells for the nurse. I can feel the room begin to spin as I tilt my head back to look up at him. "Tell Grey I said to do me a favor and go beat his friend _Juggs McFetish_ for me."

The door to my room opens and Ray now stands at the other side of the bed. "What happened?" I hear him ask Sawyer.

"The medication has her completely out of it. She tried to get out of bed," Sawyer explains as I feel him and my dad lift me back onto the bed.

"If I get a cat Sawyer. I'm going to name one after you," I mumble before falling asleep.


	5. Chapter 5: The Eye of the Storm

**Chapter 5 – The Eye of the Storm**

Anastasia has been in the hospital for a week now. She's in a regular room and according to Sawyer, physically she's doing better than expected, but emotionally she was struggling. It turns out my mother was acting as her primary care physician and a few days ago summoned Dr. Flynn to visit with Anastasia as the attempt on her life left her feeling, for lack of a better word, fragile. Flynn visited her daily and according to Sawyer, Anastasia's outlook was improving. Her discharge was on target for tomorrow afternoon.

I will admit, it angers me that she won't see me. I don't understand it. Even though I own Grey Enterprise Holdings, little Miss Steele has the audacity to decline my visit, yet she seems to have struck up a decent rapport with both Sawyer and Taylor. I feel green with envy. She trusts them, but not me. All I know about her condition is from Sawyer – her headaches and dizziness are decreasing, she's walking the hallway assisted, her appetite is non-existent, and she's now suffering from night-terrors. Unfortunately, I can relate. I want nothing more than to call my mother and Flynn demanding to know about Anastasia's condition, but I know neither of them will share information. Damned patient privacy and government regulations!

The only other thing I've found out is Anastasia has forced her father to head to the Seattle apartment she will share with Kavanagh every night to sleep. Her father is planning on heading to Montesano tonight to grab more clothes, then return to Seattle in the morning, so this evening is the perfect time for me to pay Anastasia an unexpected visit.

It's times like these where being rich is a good thing. How else would I be able to track my mother's cell phone so I knew when she left the hospital for the day? Once she's gone, it's time for me to head for my unannounced visit with Anastasia. She has to see me. I need to make sure she's healing well and to get her to sign the updated NDA with her real name.

When I exit the elevator on the third floor of the hospital, I see Sawyer standing dutifully outside Ana's room. I dismiss Taylor, who is right behind me. It doesn't surprise me when he follows me anyway, albeit at a greater distance. When Sawyer sees me heading down the hallway there is a flash look of disapproval on his face, which quickly reverts back to his CPO game face. I know Ana's attached to him, but clearly, based on his reaction, they've struck up a friendship. Perhaps I can make that work in my favor.

"How is she Sawyer?" I ask once I approach him.

"Her entire medical team finished meeting about thirty minutes ago – Dr. Trevelyan, the physical therapists, her neurologists, her therapist, and a half dozen other doctors, therapists and discharge planners. She's nervous about going home."

"So she's alone?"

"I believe so," Sawyer replied. "Ryan came to relieve me for dinner break after they arrived. I returned just a few minutes ago and according to Ryan, they all left. The room has been quiet since then.

"How do you believe she'll react to my visit?" I had to ask.

Sawyer shuffles nervously before he responds. "I would keep one hand blocking your nose, the other blocking other areas just in case. I've met her father. He's a good man who taught her well. He even brought her a new pepper spray which she keeps in her bedside table."

"I will take that under advisement," I inform him. If the situation weren't so unstable with Miss Steele and the lack of a valid NDA, I would have found his comment oddly amusing, but right now, I just am not able to do so. I crack the door open slowly and peek in. Her bed is empty, which means she's probably in the en-suite. I hear voices as I enter, but they are low, so I'm assuming it's the television.

When I fully enter the room, two sets of eyes are staring at me horrified but both for different reasons. My heart feels like it stops dead cold for a second, either that or it just skipped a few beats. Anastasia's glare is a mixture of anger, fear, and utter panic. John Flynn's is pure shock and of sudden, horrifying understanding.

"Miss Steele, I wasn't aware you had visitors. Would it be acceptable if I returned a bit later so we can talk?" I ask having lost the element of surprise.

"Sorry Mr. Grey, but I don't negotiate with arrogant, deranged ass dumplings," she replies bitterly. "I think you should go back to your ice tower in the sky and contemplate how you got to be the man you are today. I'm using the term 'man' loosely."

"We need to talk privately," I implore her while Flynn watches with interest, but giving away nothing of what he is thinking.

"Anastasia, do you need me to leave?" Flynn asks.

"No!" she quickly answers at the same instance I answer a resounding "yes".

"I want you out Grey. You are not allowed in here. I have an approved visitors list and this is one VIP list you aren't on," Anastasia practically yells at me.

"I need you to know I didn't have anything to do with your accident," I reply attempting to keep the emotion out of my voice.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, before turning her attention back to Flynn. "This is what I meant earlier. My whole life, well most of my life, I've been quiet, bordering on ridiculously shy, and generally a nice person, but he brings out the worst in me. I feel like a lamb being lead to the slaughter around him even though I know he had absolutely nothing to do with my accident."

"And how do you know that?" Flynn asked curiously as he continued to glance between the two of us.

"Because I left him pepper sprayed and a bloody lump on the floor of his apartment. He was unconscious, but breathing. I called an ambulance when I got into the cab. Outside the apartment, I noticed a black SUV parked in the distance with the parking lights on. I remember seeing it again when I rented the car. He couldn't have had anything to do with it because he wasn't conscious and I imagine by the time he was conscious, I was long gone."

"So how do you two know each other?" Flynn asked. I could have sworn he was struggling to hide a smirk when he glanced my way.

"Let's call it worst date ever and after that, he's the first guy I went on a date with and will be the last," she sighed.

"Why do you say that Anastasia?" Flynn asks softly.

"You attract one of two things: what you are, or what deep down what you feel you deserve, so in my case I'm either a sick, twisted, ass dumpling; or I attract them. Either way, it's not good."

"What made you say yes to him as opposed to any other male who asked you on a date?" Flynn queried.

"I plead the fifth in mixed species company."

I couldn't help it, I laughed. God I loved her smart mouth. Flynn looked at me and I could tell by his gaze that he wanted my approval to reveal that he was my therapist as well. "Anastasia," I begin anxiously, "Dr. Flynn has been my therapist for five years. He knows me better than anyone else – the good, the bad, the ugly."

Her jaw drops open in shock. We can both see her brain racing. "So did you send him here to pick my brain or to have him help you get me to sign your stupid form?"

"No, it's a coincidence," I reply. "We will discuss the form later."

"Right, and next you'll be telling me that my doctor is your sister or something," she snaps at us, causing Flynn to laugh at the irony of the situation.

"Who's your doctor?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"Dr. Trevelyan."

"She's my mother, not my sister," I reply somewhat embarrassed. "She's one of the best pediatricians and family medicine physicians in the state."

"You're like an octopus, aren't you?" she asks bitterly. "There's no escaping you anywhere in Seattle, is there?"

"It's not intentional, I assure you." Even Flynn looks shocked when I say it. He knows I'm a control freak but in this instance I kept my involvement to a minimum, even using Sawyer, who my family has not met as her CPO.

"So he knows it all?" she asks.

I nod.

"What on earth made you believe that I would want to be in a relationship where I was financially maintained while allowing you to tie me up, beat me, and have your way with me? Do I give off that vibe? I can assure you, it certainly wasn't my intention," Ana sighed tearfully before her anger takes over. "I can't be bought at any cost, no matter how good looking you are. I won't trade my body for jewelry. I might not have had the most stable upbringing and my mother's choices left me damaged in some ways, but let me make this very clear Grey – you can do one of two things; either take your billions and buy yourself a clue to what a real personal life is, or, realize that the only types of women that would sign on the dotted lines with your arrangement are as damaged or more damaged than you are. Maybe you should stop beating then, keep fucking them but nicely, and pay for their therapy with the good doctor here, because they obviously need it."

"I'm sorry," I sigh as I sink into the chair on the other side of the room with my hands covering my face.

Is she right? The panic is welling up in me. For years I've believed that since the relationships were consensual so it wasn't an issue, but Anastasia's take, from the outside looking in, has sent me into a tailspin. Did I allow my emotional scars to cause harm to woman who had as many scars as I did. My brain was running faster than any CPU I'd heard of as I went back through my previous submissives.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I hear Anastasia whisper to Flynn if she broke me. His reply shocked me. "You didn't break him. I prefer to think you made him look into his world from an outside window, and that's always a good thing."

My emotions are raw. I came here to talk to her and get the NDA signed, yet here I sit, completely overwhelmed and a bit disoriented.

"Ana, will you answer Dr. Flynn's question from earlier about why you said yes to a date with me? I'm trying to understand … well, I'm trying to understand myself."

"I'll answer if you will. It goes both ways," she replies anxiously.

I nod in agreement and she continues.

"When I interviewed you for the college paper, I thought you were an arrogant, control freak, but on the drive back to Portland, I replayed the interview and realized there was more to you simmering underneath the surface. Your obsession with feeding those without, then quickly attempting to make me believe it was a money play, when there isn't money to be made feeding the poor unless you steal it and sell it on the black market for profit. Your casual statement about people believing you don't have a heart, yet anyone that reads up on your charitable work knows that's not true, so it's your own belief in yourself with regard to not having a heart. I did some research after the interview because I couldn't put my finger on what it was about you that I couldn't put my finger on and I realized, you were adopted at four by a good family. It was at that point I realized that I was looking into the eyes of a damaged, lost little boy in a man's body. I wanted to fix you, because in some warped way it would be like fixing myself. In the end, what I saw made me realize, I was losing myself to the darkness that caused my own scars years ago and it scared the crap out of me. You wanted me to repeat my mothers' mistake but going into it knowingly with a smile on my face. I vowed never to become like her. She's not a bad person, but sometimes she makes poor choices and lives with the consequences until so much damage is done, she's beyond repair. As much as I love her, I will not be like her."

Her candidness was overwhelming. Just as I feared, she could see right through me from the start. She saw and understood in a half hour interview more than the therapists I'd paid tens of thousands of dollars to, before Flynn, couldn't. Flynn was staring at me, his look of shock must have been mirrored in my own eyes but multiplied tenfold.

After a minute of awkward silence, she states, "Your turn."

I close my eyes and lean my head back and think back to our first meeting. I can't help but smile before I open my eyes again and look into her blue ones, "The first thing I saw was your beauty, but beyond that I saw your innocence, and your eyes lacked the usual guile that most women have. You were the first woman who I felt saw the real me and my need for control, and challenged it. I was awed by you."

I couldn't pull my eyes away from hers. It was like being trapped. I felt like she was using x-ray vision to get inside my warped mind.

"Back in high school I had a friend named Susan," she began speaking softly addressing her story directly to me, "she was smart, beautiful, and shy. Everyone saw her for who she truly was, except for her. She grew up in a divorced home where her father rarely saw her, leaving her with her alcoholic, high achieving mother who had time for everyone except her own neglected daughter. Her father remarried his mistress and promptly had a few kids and on the rare occasion they saw each other, every other word out of his mouth was criticism. In her case, it didn't help that she resembled her father's family, which caused her mother's family to transfer their feelings of anger, loathing, and hate toward her because they didn't see him. She looked in the mirror and saw an ugly monster who deserved the scorn and hatred of the masses. It's all she'd ever known in her sixteen years of life. But you know what?"

"What?" I barely managed to croak out past the knot I felt in my throat.

"If she can overcome the damage her scarred parents caused her in the first sixteen years, then you can overcome whatever happened before you were adopted. All you have to do is see those that surrounded you for what they were – damaged people with their own issues. People who most likely took out their own self-loathing on an innocent little boy. No child deserves that. I know you well enough from our limited time together that if you saw someone abusing a small child that you wouldn't blame the child – you would blame the adults. It's the only rational choice; yet, in your own case you are blaming yourself."

Flynn nodded in agreement. "You're very perceptive."

She laughed wryly. "When Ray brought me back to Montesano from Texas and the damaged human being that was husband number three, I was broken. I still feel broken only it's a bit more obvious now. At that time, I read everything I could with regard to psychology and realized that a great deal of it is common sense. It's funny how one can apply common sense toward another's situation, but not their own."

All I want to do is go home, have a drink, play depressing music on the piano and try to turn my brain off. The overwhelming sense of panic over not being in control of my own mind is paralyzing. I've seen myself as Christian Grey, master of his domain. Right now, I feel like I'm lost in a tornado of rational truth as I try to cling onto my past beliefs regarding myself, but like Anastasia's beliefs about me, they are slipping though my fingers and I'm lost in two hundred mile per hour winds just waiting for the free fall.


	6. Chapter 6: The Three Faces of Grey

**Chapter 6 – Three Faces of Grey**

More than anything, I want to ask Ana if we can start this friendship… relationship… or whatever this is, over. Part of me is terrified that she is able to see past my outer façade to the real me. Yet my words to her during the interview are haunting me – _I want to deserve to possess them_. Business is one thing, but in my limited personal life I'm a sadist, a monster – I don't deserve someone like her. I want to deserve her, desperately, but I know I don't and never will. So does that make me terrified of wanting her?_ Control Grey, control!_ I don't allow people in, but those big blue eyes have super powers creating a no bullshit zone. I need to be in control, not feeling vulnerable. I need to gain cool, calm, rational control over myself because if I don't, I'll ruin her and never forgive myself. She's pure, innocent, and deserves better than the fucked up shell of a human being I am. I'll ruin her, fucking ruin her. I have to protect her from the likes of me. Is this what happened to my mother? Did I ruin her too?

I sense that both Ana and Flynn have been staring at me, waiting for me to respond to Ana's story about her friend Susan. Intellectually, I know she's right. It makes sense. Yet you try having a rational conversation between the three personalities that reside within me - the fucked up four-year-old in me is cowering in the corner, paralyzed by nearly half a decade of abject dysfunction; the angry, horny teenager just wants to take her; and the adult man who just wants her to be happy. If I had a stun gun, I'd use it on myself at this point. God, I disgust myself sometimes and no quantity of ten thousand dollar Italian suits will hide the monster who wears them, even from me.

The fear normally reserved for my nightmares is like bile in my throat. No amount of deep breathing will quell it. The more I dwell on it, the harder it becomes to breath and the more detached from my body I feel. In my mind I'm back in Detroit, hiding in the back of my mother's closet, terrified beyond belief. The closet was my safe place. Twenty-three years later, the closet exists in my mind, the place where I've compartmentalized my life. The locks in this new _biocloset_ for lack of a better word are my own denial, conflicts, and all-around fuckupness. I'm a prisoner in my own dysfunctional mind.

"No Anastasia," I vaguely hear Dr. Flynn warn her as I felt her slowly kneel down next to me. She winced in pain when she finally steadied herself on the floor before me. With each of her movements, I'm vaguely aware of her sharp intake of breaths from the physical discomfort she must feel after her accident. She then began rubbing small circles on my shoulder and slightly down my back in an attempt to soothe me. With that small contact my breathing calms and the fear begins melting away. Suddenly I stiffen with shock – her touch on my back didn't cause me to panic, rather it calmed me._ What the fuck!_

"I'm sorry I pushed you too far," she whispered sadly removing her hand from my back. "When I came back from Texas, Ray would rub my back and shoulder when I had anxiety issues. It made me feel like I wasn't alone. It helped more than any anti-anxiety medication, because I knew I wasn't alone. It made me feel safe - cherished. Are you okay?"

I nodded. I know Flynn was once again gaping at me because I didn't overreact when Anastasia rubbed my back and shoulder. He saw it too. If my mother were here, she would have fainted or cried. Elliot would have been astounded for a split second, then taunted me about rocking a chubby as he so vulgarly calls it. I have no explanation for lack of my standard overreaction to that type of intimate contact, but I can't dwell on it now.

Flynn and I carefully helped her get to her feet as she winced with the movement. By the time we had her comfortably back in her chair, there were tears in her eyes. "What's your pain level on a scale of one-to-ten Anastasia? When was the last time you had pain medication?" John asked as he handed her a few tissues from her bedside table.

"A seven or an eight," she sighed wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm not certain about the last time I had pain medication. I'm just tired. I over-did it today walking the hallways with Sawyer. He told me to slow down, but I didn't listen because I want to be able to collect my college diploma with Kate at the end of next week. I'm going to spend my weekend studying so on Monday and Tuesday or next week I can take my finals remotely."

"Are you sure you are up to that?" I ask.

She nods, which caused a sharp intake of breath from the pain the movement caused her. "I want to take my finals. I know I will graduate either way, but I don't want to allow this accident to ruin my GPA."

Flynn presses the nurses call button and they immediately answer over the room's speaker. "How can I help you?" the female voice replied.

"This is Dr. Flynn. Miss Steele is in significant discomfort. Can you tell me when she is due another course of pain medication?"

"Miss Steele is two hours past due. The order is written so it is at her request now, but no earlier than every four hours. Miss Steele hasn't requested any medication since mid-morning. I'll be in shortly with a dose."

"Thank you," John replies. He then turns to Ana and helps her from the chair into her bed. "While you are highly amusing when you are medicated, I'd rather move you now since you are already exhausted."

"I appreciate it Dr. Flynn," she whispers as he covers her with a blanket.

"Did you have dinner? You can't take that type of medication on an empty stomach," he queries. My jealously is flaring up – it should be me taking care of her, not him.

"My dad mentioned earlier that it's baked potato soup night at the brew house down the street and he arranged for a delivery of soup with homemade cheesy-garlic croutons, and sandwiches for me and Sawyer. It should be here shortly," Ana informed us.

At least Ray took care of his daughter, which is more than I can say about her mother. He's shown his appreciation by taking care of my security team's meals as well. I'm feeling greener than Oscar the Grouch – jealousy is consuming me and it sucks. I should be taking care of Ana. My thoughts are interrupted by the nurse, who enters with medication in hand along with a small glass of orange juice. Sawyer is right behind her carrying a brown paper bag with food.

"Ready to eat Ana?" Luke asks as Ana swallows the pills and the nurse leaves.

"How about when it's just us? Did you read through chapter fifteen of _Heir to the Empire_?" Ana asks with excitement. _Yup, I'm green with envy._

"All the way through chapter twenty, so I'm ready to discuss them over dinner," he replies as he shakes his cell phone at her. "Ray wants in the discussion so I promised him when we started it, I'd dial him and put him on speaker phone."

"I appreciate your assistance in finding books that Ray and I would both enjoy," she replied happily. "It's nice to have read a good book that crosses over the gender barrier. Zahn is king!"

"That he is," Sawyer replies with a smirk. "You know, you described him to me as taciturn, but he's anything but when he's talking about the military - typical ex-soldier."

She's gotten too close to her CPO. You never cross that line. Well I never cross that line. I sigh inwardly. I need to remember that, to Anastasia, he's just someone watching her in case the nutcase that ran her off the road attempts a repeat performance in terms of threatening her life. He's nothing more than a quazi-police officer on duty in her mind. Anastasia comes from a military family, so she's kind to soldiers and civil servants alike. Hell, even after the debasing sexual lifestyle I attempted to lure her into, she's even nice to me. I deserved the beating she gave me in my playroom, but it almost appears as if she forgives me. I can only hope.

"Hi Taylor!" she chimes in as he stands in the doorway. "How has your day been?"

"Good Ana. It's nice to see you getting back on your feet," he replies with a quick, gentle smile before returning to his impassive work facade.

"Ana," I begin cautiously, "we need to discuss your security plan beginning when you are discharged tomorrow. Taylor is my head of security and Sawyer his second."

"My dad will be with me. This really shouldn't be your concern," she replies distantly.

I glance at Flynn, who nods in understanding. "There is a chance that the person who attacked you did so because of my lifestyle out of jealously."

"Why would they do that?" There's no missing the horror on her face.

Flynn replies, "Jealousy, mental health issues, there are any number of potential reasons."

"Why would anyone be jealous of me? I'm just a college student – a nobody."

I sigh. I don't want to have to explain it to her, but I really don't have a choice. "I've terminated my submissive contracts multiple times when they've wanted more from me. They get attached and I move on. You've said it yourself, these women need help. Perhaps you are correct. It could be one of them, though we haven't identified a threat from any of them, but since you describe your attacker as a female, it's only logical to not preclude the possibility that this is somehow related to my lifestyle."

"More?" Ana asked uncertainly. Leave it to Anastasia to focus on more.

"They want a full-fledged, hearts and flowers, romantic relationship, so I end it. Sometimes the women don't handle it well. Until we determine who harmed you, I'd rather not put lives at risk – especially yours, but not excluding your father's, Miss Kavanagh's, or any of your friends."

The tears well up in her eyes as her brain attempts to process the information. "The only problem is, you took me to the penthouse in your helicopter. I was there for all of an hour when I left. If the person parked downstairs was waiting for you, they had no way of knowing if anyone was in the helicopter with you unless somehow they breached your security and had a way to see into the apartment. If it was someone after me, how would they know I was in Seattle? I mean, I've never been to Seattle before."

Turning to Taylor, I can see he's already texting Welch and Barney to head to Escala to oversee a total security check. "Security system check should be completed by morning Sir."

What Ana is saying makes logical sense, reinforcing that the attack on her had to do with me. It's only logical they were after me, not her, but when they saw her resemblance to my submissives their plan must have changed. How can I tell her that all of my submissives resembled my dead birth mother as she does? That would really let the cat out of the bag and show how utterly screwed up I am. Right now, I just want to smother that cat.

"I agree with what you are saying, but it further indicates that you were attacked because of our interaction. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but would you consider recovering at Escala rather than at your apartment? I can keep you safer there as we have the latest in security systems, and your father is welcome to remain there as well to care for you." I can see Flynn cringing out of the corner of my eye.

Ana merely laughs awkwardly as tears flow from her eyes. "I will politely decline your offer. I think you can understand why."

"I promise to behave."

"How can I get over what happened if I have to look at you all the time? Once you walk out that door, I have no intention of seeing you again unless by some miracle Kate marries your brother."

I feel like I've been slapped in the face with a two-by-four. Then she glances at Sawyer for reassurance.

"Ana," Sawyer begins cautiously. "I'm not going to lie to you. You know I work for Mr. Grey, right?" She nods. "There are two ways to get over things – deal with them at your own pace, or you can die because you allow your emotions take control over common sense. Someone tried to kill you, there is no question about that. You were specifically targeted. I know you'd chose option one and deal with this at your own pace, which is what we all hope you select, but being out there without some level of security until we figure out what is going on is fool-hardy and suicidal. Whoever attacked you attempted to murder you, not scare you, but murder you. You were lucky. In my experience, they will make another attempt. We are not dealing with a rational person. We're dealing with a crazy person and you can't easily predict crazy. If you don't want to recuperate at Escala, then allow Mr. Grey to put a team at your apartment. It's for your safety and your father agrees. Ray is terrified that you'll be attacked again. You won't even know we're there."

"You spoke to my father about this?"

"No, your father spoke to both Taylor and I about this," Sawyer replied as Taylor nodded in agreement. "It was one ex-military guy to another. He's worried Ana. He knows he can't be around to protect you twenty-four seven. He also mentioned to me that your friend Kate is heading to Barbados for two weeks after she moves to the apartment and her family insists she not cancel the trip."

"And he won't come around?" she whispered anxiously motioning toward me.

"You set the visitor list," Taylor assured her.

Ana turns toward me and I'm unable to hide my displeasure at what Taylor and Sawyer are proposing. It's a good plan, but I want to see her.

"Mr. Grey, I will agree on a few conditions," Ana replies cautiously.

"Which are?" I ask bracing myself for what was to come.

"If I say you can't come in, and then you can't come in - there is no penalizing Sawyer, Taylor, or your security team when they enforce those wishes – no retribution in any way, shape, or form. I want that in writing and all concerned parties sign it," she states without pulling her eyes from mine. "I appreciate the offer of security – I really do because I'm not going to lie to you, I'm afraid – heck beyond afraid, but I won't allow this fear to control my life. While I feel after our time with Dr. Flynn today that I know you a bit better, you make me nervous. Granted, it's not as nervous as you made me before, but still. I need to process everything that happened when I'm not high as a kite on pain medication and giggling like an imbecile."

"Can I call to see how you are doing?" I ask.

I can't help but sigh as she shakes her head negatively. "Text message or email only once I figure out how to set up my new call phone. It's over my head, as prior to this one, which Kate picked out, I had an old flip phone. This one is space age." She shakes her Samsung Note 3 at us. "Right now I need to focus solely on my studies and Kate picked out this phone because I can get my school books on it along with e-books." She's ridiculously excited to be able to study and read off her phone. It's amazing how the things I take for granted make her smile like a kid on Christmas morning. "I apologize Mr. Grey, but having contact with you will remind me of what happened; thereby causing me to lose focus on what's important right now, which is achieving a sense of normalcy, acing my finals, and graduating with my peers. I hope you understand and aren't offended."

"You're a tough negotiator Miss Steele." I smirk. Who would have thought that shy, quiet, Miss Steele would speak her mind with such detail and force. She was raised in a military family with her step-father, so she's protective over Taylor, Sawyer, and my security team, which I respect and almost wish I was one of them so she's look at me with the admiration she does them. I know they respect her as well. I can understand why both Taylor and Sawyer are protective of her. She's like a kid sister to them - one military family after all.

"I think it's time we allow Anastasia to rest, don't you Christian? After all, we've been in here talking to her for two hours. She needs dinner and sleep," Flynn commented having watched most of the recent interaction from the sideline. I know he's going to have fun at our next session after today. He doesn't miss anything, so it will be uncomfortable for me, but highly amusing for him. Sometimes he's such a shithead.

Reynolds knocked lightly, and then poked his head in the door. Gazing at my watch, I realized it was seven-thirty. It was time for Sawyer to go off-shift.

"Good evening Reynolds! How's your little sister? Is she feeling better?" Anastasia greets him happily. He replies that he's well and his sister is doing better with a quick grin. If I were any greener, I'd be changing into the Incredible Hulk.

"Just checking to make sure all is well in here since Sawyer wasn't at the door," Reynolds commented before nodding at Sawyer. He then closed the door and took his post for the night. Yup, Anastasia Steele has my entire security team wrapped around her delicate finger. Me? I'm just getting greener by the second. Kermit the Frog said it best – _It's not easy being green_.

After finally seeing Anastasia, I feel like I'm learning how to emotionally surf and I'm all over the place. The woman, barely a woman though only five years my junior, brings serenity and a sense of family to everyone else, but in my case, she throws my balance off. It feels like I'm trying to walk on a bed of marbles; ironically, while it feels like I'm losing my marbles. I wonder what her mother feels toward her. Does she love her amazing daughter? Or is she just apathetic or resentful toward her? She gave birth to her at nineteen after all.

My life was simpler before Anastasia Steele. It's difficult and to say the least uncomfortable when you realize it was also empty – devoid of any real emotional attachments. My emotions were limited to anger, frustration, and occasionally rage. I appreciate my parents and siblings, but love? For Grace it's more like devotion and admiration, but love? I wouldn't know love if it came up to me and hit me with a giant sex toy.

"Taylor, let's stop at the brew house Anastasia mentioned for dinner," I ordered as the rain began to fall. "Soup sounds good tonight."

"Yes sir."

Fifteen minutes later we are seated at a semi-private table waiting for our order of baked potato soup with an extra serving of the croutons along with large hoagies. "How do you think we should proceed in our investigation Taylor?"

"I have Welch and Barney at Escala now reviewing the security. Ryan has a team out checking up on all previous submissives, and a few other women," he replied uncertainly.

"What other women?"

Taylor shifts uncomfortably. "Any woman you know and interact with on a fairly frequent basis who has breast implants sir."

"Implants? I don't follow." Don't follow? Hell, I'm astounded.

He smirks. "Miss Steele nicknamed her attacker at _Juggs McFetish_." I can't help it, I smirk right along with him as our soup and croutons are served. "She also joked with Miss Kavanagh that they had to be fake because they didn't jiggle when the two cars were side-by-side going off the road. So Sawyer, Reynolds, and I compiled a list of women you interact with at GEH and beyond that we suspect of having had implants."

"Agreed." After we taste the soup and the croutons, we both dig in heartily. "We've got to get an order of soup and croutons for Mrs. Jones to see if she can duplicate this," I comment and Taylor agrees.

"Permission to speak freely sir," Taylor requests cautiously as our hoagies arrive.

I nod.

"We need to increase security on not only Miss Steele, but also surrounding yourself and all of your family, along with Ros Bailey and her immediate family in case the threat is GEH related. My best guess at this point is that Miss Steele is the main target, but I would prefer to act now than retroactively regretting not increasing our security presence for your family. I also would like to add covert surveillance on Miss Kavanagh due to her relationship with both Miss Steele and your brother. My concern is that she will not accept someone following her around and she's a potential pawn to be used again both Miss Steele and your brother, so she needs to be protected. Not to mention, if something happens to Miss Kavanagh, it could harm your relationship with Kavanagh media. I have a female operative ready to watch over Miss Kavanagh in Barbados if you approve."

"As much as I'm not a fan of Miss Kavanagh, I agree. I don't know what my brother sees in her other than breasts."

Taylor laughed. "She's not my cup of tea either sir, but she's fiercely loyal to Miss Steele, which is impressive considering they come from two very different upbringings. Even Miss Kavanagh's parents and brother have visited Miss Steele at the hospital. Sawyer was left with the distinct impression they thought of her as family and knew her quite well. He went so far as commenting that the elder Mr. Kavanagh tends to be cold, but when it came to his children and Miss Steele he was a completely different person."

"He's an ass unless you know him well, then he's just tenacious, loud and abrupt like his daughter."

"Barney is changing all of the security codes at Escala tonight. There is also a crew there right now changing all of the locks just in case," Taylor informed me. "Also, Miss Steele has given me the approval to review security in the building she'll be living in with Miss Kavanagh. I was there earlier and I would like to approach the building's board about adding security camera's to the lobby, rear exits, and other public areas. Miss Kavanagh's father purchased the apartment and two parking spaces. Mr. Rodriguez is bringing her vehicle up from Portland tomorrow night."

"And?" It's clear there's something about the vehicle that Taylor is apprehensive about disclosing. "Just say it Taylor."

"Miss Steele's current vehicle is a forty year old Beetle convertible that's seen better days. Given the current need for security, at the very least, once she is permitted to drive, she will require a safer car that can travel at higher speeds when needed, and have a hard top as opposed to a convertible," Taylor replies knowing I'll just send him to the Audi dealership to purchase a vehicle for her. "Knowing Miss Steele, and Sawyer agrees, she won't accept a new car from you. Since she's at least three weeks away from being permitted to drive, we thought a better solution would be to take her Beetle and restore it, while adding some power. We can tell her the restoration power would take two to three months and in the interim she can use one of your fleet vehicles; more specifically, not an Audi."

"Why not an Audi?" I snap. "They have the highest safety ratings."

He shifted uncomfortably before me. When his eyes finally met mine again, I could see reluctant determination in them. "You've bought all of your submissives Audi's. If the perpetrator is one of your former partners, the Audi will be a beacon toward Miss Steele. Also, eventually, Miss Steele might be made to understand that in your previous relationships Audi was the vehicle of choice, so if you want a chance to make things right with Miss Steele, Audi isn't the way to go. You want her to stand out from those before her."

I sigh. He's right. I have a great deal to learn about relationships. "What do you recommend?"

"The BMW Active Hybrid 5, preferably blue. It's the middle vehicle in their hybrid line, an excellent vehicle, and it shows that you are environmentally aware. Miss Steele and Miss Kavanagh volunteered on a committee at school to help make the university more environmentally aware," he replied. "It's a win-win. I've also arranged with Mrs. Jones to stock the apartment freezer with pre-made, microwavable meals at Miss Steele's apartment. Sawyer mentioned that Miss Steele's father commented that he can't boil water and that she did all the cooking growing up. I thought it would help her recuperate and still be taken care of. I provided Mrs. Jones with the apartment keys and she filled the refrigerator and pantry, but also had the third bedroom set up so Mr. Steele would have a place to sleep, along with other incidentals for the apartment. Coincidentally, Ryan lives in a building on the same block, so he compiled a folder of restaurants that deliver food and the location of the nearest book store."

"You've thought of everything," I replied. It was impressive.

"Actually sir, this was a team effort between Mrs. Jones, Sawyer, Ryan, Reynolds, and I. There is one more thing I need to add though." I nod for him to proceed. "Miss Steele doesn't own a computer, which makes it difficult for her to take her finals next week. I would like to have Barney deliver a laptop to her; otherwise she'll risk traveling to the university for her exams, which isn't medically advised."

"I would like to deliver the laptop to her tomorrow. Make sure it's top of the line and have a good desk and comfortable chair at the apartment for her; preferably a chair that will support her injured arm while she studies." This will be my excuse to see her, even if it's at the hospital before she's discharged.

"Sir, I don't believe it's prudent for you to deliver the laptop as Miss Steele is still apprehensive in your presence and your limited encounters with Mr. Steele have been awkward. Perhaps you will win more points with the elder Steele if you respect his daughter's wishes of limited contact," Taylor explains uncomfortably.

Reluctantly, I agree. "Have Welch and Andrea begin researching local publishing companies. Once Miss Steele is healed, she will be job hunting. I would like to be able to ensure her security if she finds employment."

"The information is already on your desk at home waiting," he replies with a smirk.

For the first time, Taylor surprises me. "You've been working for me for too long Taylor. It's unnerving that you can predict my actions so well. I'm certain that anyone who knew me growing up would ever say I was predictable." I can't help but smirk.

"It's what security does sir. We need to be able to predict your actions to guarantee your safety," he replies.

After dinner, Taylor took me to the apartment Anastasia would share with Kate Kavanagh. The three-bedroom flat was located five blocks from Escala and Ryan's building was just next door. While it wasn't the largest apartment, the location was perfect. It had the feel of a loft apartment with concrete countertops and exposed brick, yet it still felt like home. I was surprised to find Mrs. Jones and Sawyer unpacking boxes of new housewares in the kitchen. While she greeted me with a pleasant smile, her eyes and a special smile were reserved for Taylor when she thought I wasn't looking. I just want Anastasia to look at me like that. Taylor is a lucky man.

Mrs. Jones continued the tour of the apartment. "From what Sawyer understood from Mr. Steele, Miss Kavanagh and Miss Steele were going to be purchasing a new living room set when they moved here along with a dining room table. In order to make things more comfortable for Miss Steele and her father, Taylor had me decorate the living room and dining room."

The furniture was modern that fit with the loft feel, yet comfortable. I was impressed. They left no detail undone – wine and beer coolers side-by-side, stocked in a corner of the dining room, large LCD television set up with cable, additional pillows and throws, coasters, and even an array of publishing, women's, fishing, and sports magazines fanned out on the coffee table.

The guest bedroom was set up simply with a queen-sized bed, nightstands, dresser, and yet more fishing and sports magazines. The décor was unisex with the room accessories making it feel masculine. Next to the leather recliner in the corner was a small book shelf filled with books. There also was a small side-table.

Anastasia's bedroom was stunning. It had a beach-like theme filled with different shades of blues and crème colors. The headboard of the queen-sized bed was white-washed and the bedding assorted soft blues and yellows. Like Anastasia, the room felt serene. I glanced at Taylor when I saw the large wicker chair and matching ottoman in the corner covered with large soft cushions. Next to the wicker chair was a matching book case already stocked with her many books, strategically located on her uninjured side. I couldn't help but the top shelf included the collective works of Timothy Zahn, matching those in the guest bedroom for Ray. The small wicker side-table included a box of tissues, a Bose iPod dock, a sea mist candle, and a Costco-sized tub of assorted colored Swedish Fish. In the opposite corner was a white-washed desk that matched the bed. Before it wasn't a standard black or grey office chair, but a sleek, modern, rounded, crème-colored chair that would support her arm, neck, shoulder and back that was the perfect height for the desk. They even had a small drink cooler in the room with flowers and tropical plants scattered around the room. They thought of everything.

"We had to replace Miss Steele's bed," Gail explained. "It was twin-sized and was in need of a new mattress. We replaced it with a slightly higher bed so it would be easier for her to get out of. We also added extra pillows so she could support her injured arm. We went with the beach theme as all her belongings indicated she preferred the Cape Cod style." She paused until I smiled approvingly at her. "In the ensuite, we added a few sturdy temporary support bars in the shower and bath in case Miss Steele slips or needs additional support when she isn't feeling well."

I'm in awe at what they've accomplished in such a short period of time. "Gail, would you accompany Taylor to the hospital tomorrow to visit Miss Steele before she's discharged? With Miss Kavanagh still in school, Miss Steele will be surrounded by men and I thought it might help if she had a female around. I can't help but feel after everything she's been though, she needs a mother figure available and unfortunately her own mother isn't the appropriate person to provide that support. You can also be her contact person when she needs to vent about the testosterone overload surrounding her. You could also give her a tour of the apartment and walk her through the kitchen."

"I would be happy to sir," Gail replies with a massive smile. "I completely understand about being overwhelmed by too much testosterone. It's nice to see it acknowledged." I've never seen Gail smirk before – it's adorable. Yup, I've said it before, Taylor is a lucky man.

"And security?" I turn my attention toward Taylor and Sawyer.

"Each room has an alarm button in case of a problem. We've added an alarm system to the entire apartment, including all windows and doors. If anything happens here, we're notified at both Escala and GEH's security suites," Taylor explains.

"We've also replaced the apartment door with a steel-reinforced door for additional security," Sawyer explains. "Also, one of Ryan's friends lives two floors up. His security clearance has checked out and he's signed an NDA. In an emergency, he is willing to help out. If the emergency button is pushed in this apartment, he'll receive a text and most likely be one of the first responders. He's got a concealed carry permit and is retired from the New York City Police Department. He's our contingency plan."

As Taylor, Mrs. Jones, Sawyer, and I head back to Escala for the evening; I can't help but email my Human Resources team to increase their salaries by ten percent and include a bonus of ten percent of their annual salaries in that same check for Taylor, Sawyer, and Mrs. Jones. Yup, my people are that good.


	7. Chapter 7: Dysfunction Junction

**Chapter 7 – Dysfunction Junction**

**Journal of Anastasia Steele – Late May 2011**

_Every so often in life you just need to climb an imaginary mountain and at the stop of your lungs scream – What the fuck! Today I, Anastasia Steele, get to grab the megaphone and shout at the top of my lungs – What the fuck!__It should have been a good day – I was finally being discharged from the hospital, the smaller cuts on my face were healing nicely, the dizziness was now rare as opposed to whenever I moved, the large bruises on my legs are fading, my pain level was almost manageable without narcotic pain medication, and I was getting to spend the next week at the new apartment with the most important man in my life – my dad._

_I'm learning all too fast that life is full of curve balls. Thanks Dad for teaching me about baseball metaphors even if that one sank like a Hoyt Willhelm knuckle ball. Here I sit, writing in my precious journal, after being discharged from the hospital, a panic attack, and probably soon to be hissy fit – boy am I bitchy. I feel like Kate when she had to get up for a seven a.m. class. Worst semester ever!_

_I knew that Sawyer or another member of Mr. Grey's security team were going to be standing guard in my hallway, but I wasn't prepared for the reality I faced when I arrived home. The first hint that I'd lost control of my life came before I was even discharged. Sawyer was standing outside my door as usual when Taylor and a woman, who I would learn is Mrs. Jones, Mr. Grey's housekeeper came to visit me. _

_Why am I referring to him as Mr. Grey? It's because after that day in his apartment and the events of today, I will always be formal with him. His staff however, is another story; or at least I thought so. While I've been cooped up in the hospital these last ten days, they slowly went from being formal with me, calling me Miss Steele or ma'am, and after I bitched enough, graduated to calling me Ana. _

_Dad even got along well with Sawyer, not so much with Taylor, as he sees him as management since he's technically in charge of the security team. As much as Taylor has tried to win over my father, his success was limited and the harder he tries the more crap Dad gives him. Honestly, I think Dad is enjoying screwing with him since he hasn't seen Mr. Grey to continue giving him a hard time._

_Dad's not stupid. He knows there's more to the story of what happened that night. All I've told him is that Mr. Grey and I had a date, we'd met because Kate is dating his brother, and I left because he was too forward. From there I rented a car and headed back to school. From what Taylor's told me, Mr. Grey told him the same story, but as I said – Dad's not stupid! He's always been untrusting of rich people, mainly because mom left him in search of a richer husband. I don't blame him. I don't trust rich people easily either, though I do trust Kate. It's why I get along so well with the security team – they are normal, salt of the earth people. Well at least to me they are. After today I'm wondering if they haven't been working for Mr. Grey too long such that their foothold with reality is slipping a bit._

_So, back to Mrs. Jones. She's pretty, sweet, and by the glances she throws Taylor's way, she's either cheating on her husband, Mr. Jones with Mister Management; or just likes to sneak a peek. I can't say I blame her. Taylor's a good looking man, but then again, so it the entire security detail. They should do a calendar for charity and call it: Twelve Shades of Mr. Grey's Bodyguards. Hell, I'd buy a copy; maybe more than one. Taylor is an eight or eight point five; Sawyer is a nine point five; Ryan is a solid eight; as is Reynolds. _

_Leave it to Kate to nickname the security team: Taylor is Hot-Thing One and Sawyer is Hot-Thing Two. Reynolds and Ryan are Borrowed and Blue – borrowed because Reynolds is on loan from a billionaire acquaintance of Grey's and Ryan for his blue eyes. _

_When it comes to looks, unfortunately, Mr. Grey is a ten and an EF-twenty on the unofficial fujita scale of fucked-upness, and that scale only goes to a ten. Yup, he's a traumatized four-year old in a twenty-seven year olds body._

_Oh yeah, back to Mrs. Jones – apparently when I gave Sawyer the apartment key to check out the security, Mr. Grey took it upon himself to have Mrs. Jones play decorator and the security detail her design team. Don't get me wrong, it's a kind gesture. It really is, but virtual strangers have gone through my personal belongings. Who unpacked and handled my underwear and other unmentionables? I mean how did they know I didn't have adult toys in my belongings? I didn't, but still – they took my privacy away on his order. More than anything, did they read my journal? I know Kate finds it entertaining reading, but I don't want Mr. Grey or his staff reading my private thoughts. I'm damaged. I know it, but that doesn't mean I want to share it with the world. Perhaps instead of a scarlet __**A**__ on my chest, I should wear a scarlet __**F'd Up**__ on my chest. I might need a bigger chest to pull that off though. God forbid I ever run into Juggs McFetish, I'll have to ask where she had her work done then go someplace else. Whoever did her work left her looking like a blow up doll._

_So before I'm even discharged I know my precious privacy has already been violated. All I wanted to do was crawl into my comfy bed; wrap myself up in the quilt my mom made me when I was a child; and sleep. I've always been self-sufficient – I've had to be to a great extent. When I get sick, I tend to do more than normal, just to prove to myself that I can. Fate, or should I say, Mr. Grey and his merry band of security and housekeepers, decided it should be otherwise. I can't shake this image of them dressed like jesters, dancing around the apartment as they organized everything, while dancing to the Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. _

_Still, I kept my cool – well for a little while anyway. Keyword: little while,_

_They gave me a nice dose of pain medication through my IV right before the removed the cannula before my discharge. The nurse said it was because the car ride would leave me more uncomfortable than I'd been in the past few days. All I could do was nod. I tried to stay calm, but after meeting with John Flynn, Mr. Grey, and security last night, I'm terrified. It doesn't help that Sawyer isn't as subtle as Taylor is as he scopes out the area around us during my walk from the hospital to the car. By the time I got into the back of Mr. Grey's SUV, sans Grey YAY, with my Dad and Mrs. Jones, my hands are trembling. Sawyer and Taylor are in the front, with Sawyer behind the wheel. Ryan is driving my father's truck, and from what I overheard, Reynolds is in another vehicle. It's a conga line of beefcake and I can joke about it now, but all the security started me down the slow tailspin that would be the full blown panic attack to come. _

_The entire ride to the apartment I clutched my Dad's hand until his fingers went numb. I kept looking for a black SUV, even though I was sitting in one – ironic, I know, or any sign of Juggs McFetish. I think I'll discriminate against women with enhanced breasts for the rest of my life, through no fault of their own. Yup, I'm a complete and udder mess. Udder – utter, yup a little levity never hurts, even though it's lamer than I am right now. FUCK! I HATE FEELING HELPLESS – HATE IT!_

_By the time we reached the apartment, my entire body hurt. Merry Christmas to me! Yes, I know it's May. I'm not that out of it … unfortunately. Just watching Taylor, Sawyer, and Reynolds guard the SUV like I'm someone of importance makes my blood pressure rise. Ryan goes upstairs and does a final sweep of the apartment. I didn't realize I was holding my breath much of the time he was gone, only breathing when necessary. Yup, I can feel my blood pressure skyrocket, and my head to throb - so much for the pain medication lasting. Dad and Mrs. Jones helped me out of the car. Honestly, if they didn't, I probably would have remained inside it utterly paralyzed. I'm watching everyone who walks or drives by as they lead me into the building. I'm terrified, but at the same time I feel ridiculous surrounded by Mr. Grey's legion of men in black. _

_I inhale sharply once we are in the lobby. After a quick elevator ride to the second floor we enter the apartment. To say I was shocked to see a living room that should have been in an architectural spread shocked me. I was assuming our living room would be empty until we could shop for a new couch, but it's fully loaded; as is the kitchen._

_Glancing over at Dad, it's clear he's as shocked as I am and not pleased either. When they show me my beautiful bedroom I can't help but love it, but at the same time, I don't want it. I want the comfort and familiarity of my own things. This doesn't feel or smell like home. _

_Taylor explained that Mr. Grey wanted to make sure I was comfortable while I recuperate, but this is ridiculous. Suddenly in my bedroom, I freeze looking at the only picture I have with my birth-father taken the day I was born, which now rests in a crystal frame of my bedside table, and next to it a picture of me with Ray. When I ask where the previous frame was and they tell me they replaced it with a newer frame, I completely lost it and painfully sank down to my knees and bawled my eyes out. _

_That frame and picture are my two most valuable possessions – the picture because it's the only I have with my biological father and because he bought that frame the day I was born and inscribed the inside backing to me. When they informed me they believed it was thrown out, I felt the air leave my lungs as the panic attack overtook me. It took Ray nearly five minutes to get me breathing normally again, then I cried in Dad's arms for at least an hour, before falling asleep. Even now, journaling about it, I feel panicky. _

_Until whenever journal, until whenever…_

* * *

We'd arrived at the apartment yesterday at around eleven am and I was asleep just after twelve noon. Reluctantly and painfully, I got out of bed, found my pain medicine and took some, then made myself a cup of tea while I wrote in my journal. _Until whenever journal, until whenever._

I woke up with just my dad in the apartment. I peeked into the guest bedroom and he was fast asleep. Any normal person would be at three am. I'd slept nearly fifteen hours. The apartment is beautiful. Leave it to Mr. Grey, control freak, to steamroll in and take over the apartment, but his staff did an amazing job. The only empty room is Kate's bedroom.

After placing a cup of cold water into the microwave for a second cup of tea, I head toward the front door. My expectation is one of Mr. Grey's calendar boys will be on duty, and when I crack the door opened, Reynolds is sitting on a chair reading right outside the door.

"Good morning Reynolds. Can I make you coffee or get you something to eat?" I ask.

"No thank you ma'am," he replies, but quickly changes his response when I glare at him to "No thank you Ana." He yawned.

"How do you take your coffee?" I insist. He was part of the security team that brought me home – doesn't that idiot Grey give them any time off to sleep? I can see his hesitance, so I tap my foot feigning impatience.

"Cream and sugar," he finally replies.

"Well, come on in," I order opening the door wider with my good arm. Amazingly, he followed me to the kitchen. After I examined the new-fangled coffee maker on the counter for a minute, he laughed and taught me how to use it.

"Reynolds, why did Mr. Grey do all this? It's a lovely gesture, but –

"You don't want to feel indebted to him," he finished my sentence. "Mr. Grey is a good man, regardless of what many people think. He tends to take control, though after your father tore him a new one over the phone yesterday after you came home … er… well, nevermind that. Mr. Grey asked us to tell you that he sent you an email. If you turn your computer on and look in Outlook, you'll find it."

"I don't have an email address," I explain to him, but by the sardonic look on his face I know I do now. The whole point of me agreeing to email only contact with Mr. Grey was because I didn't have an email address. _Dammit!_

I nod in understanding. "How long will guard duty go on?"

He pours himself a cup of coffee as he explains it will go on until they find who did it as Mr. Grey wants to be certain that I am safe. I just want this over with so I can remove the complicated Mr. Grey from my life.

After chatting with Reynolds for ten more minutes about the latest James Patterson book, he resumes guard duty and I head into my bedroom to reluctantly read the email from Mr. Grey. I sigh as the computer boots up, then click on the Outlook icon. There it is, an email from the _Master of Kink_ himself – Christian Fucking Grey.

* * *

_**TO**__**:**__ Anastasia Steele_

_**FROM**__**:**__ Christian Grey_

_**DATE**__**:**__ May 21, 2011_

_**SUBJECT**__**:**__ Apologies & Regrets_

_My dear Miss Steele, I hope you are adjusting satisfactorily to being home and that you are well. First and foremost, I would like to apologize for my over-zealous attempts to ensure your apartment was prepared for your hospital discharge. As your father explained it to me last night, it wasn't my place to have my staff unpack your belongings, decide what required replacement, and making sure the deemed items were replaced prior to your returning home. For this violation of your privacy and trust, I apologize. My intention, while honorable, caused you increased stress and for that, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive this, my latest sin against you._

_Given that, at your request, our sole method of communication is via email, I would like to address the iniquities I have committed against you. At the very least I owe you that and more._

_Sin #1__: No sooner than you left my office after the interview, I had the head of GEH security run a background check on you._

_Sin #2__: Stalking – I knew you worked at Claytons and I went there specifically to see you._

_Sin #3__: I never agree to photo shoots - ever. I agreed to do one for the college paper in order to spend more time with you._

_Sin #4__: When you were almost run down by the cyclist, I desperately wanted to kiss you, but I couldn't because it was then that I realized I would ruin you. This is why I pushed you away then._

_Sin #5__: Being unable to stay away – Never in my adult life have I ever felt more out of control than when I was attempting to stay away from you. I vowed after sin #4 to keep away from you, but failed miserably. I still don't understand what it was that drew me to you, but I know when I spend time with you, it's like being in the sunlight for the first time – uncomfortable, yet glorious._

_Sin #6__: Life's inexperience's and the red room – The fictional character Forest Gump said it best, "Stupid is as stupid does" and clearly if this applies to anyone, it applies to me with regard to interpersonal relationships. Given certain events in my upbringing, I've held people, even my adoptive family, at a distance. In many ways, it made me good at business and a tough negotiator, but it also left me a solitary shell of a man. Apparently, I've learned to adjust Mr. Gump's quote in other ways to regard myself: dysfunctional is as dysfunctional does is probably the most apropos. Please feel free to add your own. Clearly, I have no real experience in terms of relationships that require any intimate emotions, or judgment for that matter. I knew you were innocent, well perhaps not quite as innocent as you are, but still, I knew you were innocent – yet I didn't see an issue attempting to lure you into a submissive contract into my maladjusted life and playroom. The beating you rightly provided was an eye-opening moment in my life, making me realize that I am sorely lacking in my humanity and no amount of charitable work will help me find my humanity without investing serious thought and counseling regarding how I became this shell of a man. Once I understand, hopefully I will find the tools to overcome it._

_Sin #7__: Pulling you down into my sorted life. There is little doubt the attack on you was due to my lifestyle and its involvement in my recent past. Your life was and is in danger because, as you so aptly informed Taylor on the phone the night of the accident, perhaps I should have spent my billions providing psychological counseling to anyone who applied to be my submissive rather than taking them to the red room. If I had done that for the past five years, perhaps the attack on you could have been prevented._

_I fully understand why you prefer to not have any contact with me. My actions and inactions have turned your life from that of a college student and thrust you into a threat-filled nightmare. I could apologize a thousand times but the words, though heartfelt, are insufficient. Through no fault of your own have your post-college career plans been thrust into upheaval. For this reason, I've taken the following steps to help you through this time:_

_Your medical bills related to the accident have been paid in full and any additional medical expenses until you are well will also be billed to me. _

_A deposit was made into your personal bank account to cover your living expenses until you are back on our feet. It is my fault you are unable to work, so it's only proper that I take this step._

_With regard to a position, Sawyer mentioned that you were interested in a career in publishing. I took the liberty of reaching out to Mr. Roach at SIP, who is an old friend of my fathers' and once you are well-enough, an internship is waiting for you._

_Security and secured transportation will be provided to you until the threat is removed. I imagine you aren't thrilled with this, but I am the one who placed you in this precarious position, so as I see it, it is also my responsibility to safeguard your well-being until that time when the threat is eliminated. I won't take no for an answer on this one._

_There aren't words to express my regret and sorrow for the hardships I alone have caused you. You deserve better than the likes of me. I can see that quite clearly now. I only hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me. You have my word that moving forward, I will work toward not only improving myself, but never repeating my own selfish errors._

_I truly am sorry._

_Christian_

* * *

For a dysfunctional little boy in an Adonis-like body, he writes a sincere email.

"Welcome to the freight train that is now departing Dysfunctional Junction," the conductor Dr. Flynn mutters in my imagination. "All aboard." I guess it's better than a rubber room. Let the six week email journey with Christian _Fucking_ Grey being – once I feel better, I'm out of here.


	8. Chapter 8: LARPing & the Real Man

**Chapter 8: LARP & the Real Man**

Those of the male persuasion say women can be frustrating and manipulative, but some men are worse than any women can ever be. Take Mr. CFG for instance – he discarded all of my furniture and replaced it to _'make me more comfortable'_ without consideration, thought, or consequence. Some of my prized possessions are now gone forever – things I kept for sentimental reasons – just gone. Fucking Grey! He left me without any choice in accepting his updated décor. If I return it or donate it then I'm left sleeping on the floor._ FUCK! This is getting screwed by Mr. CFG but not in a sensual way! _Where the hell are my thoughts today – damned pain medication. Yes, Grey is all kinds of hot, but then again, so is Sawyer, but I can't be attracted to someone who is stable, normal, and kind as Sawyer appears to be. Hell no! My first attraction is all hot on the outside and control freak – or maybe just freak on the inside. Even after what he's done and everything that's happened since taking my first cautious step in getting to know him, I'm still attracted to him. I'm a fricken moth and he's the flame.

So here I sit before the new iMac provided by Mr. CFG having read his sincere letter of apology for his actions – hindsight is 20/20, but I'm sorry, how did he get to be a billionaire without understanding the consequences of his actions? I mean, really? Do I just thank him and bite the bullet or do I channel my inner Kate Kavanagh and give him a piece of my mind? And here I continue to sit undecided. In the hospital I watched more television than I have in the past four years, leaving me feeling like I have _Castiel_ and _Crowley_ from _Supernatural_ each sitting on one of my shoulders, whispering their preferred courses of actions into my ears. God the guys on that show are hot. I can't help but sigh. _Castiel_ is pure with a heart of gold, but Crowley is the King of Hell, yet seductive. I'm so screwed – Mr. CFG brings out my inner _Crowley_. Deep down I must have daddy issues because Misha Collins is just all kinds of hot.

* * *

_**TO**__**:**__ Christian Grey_

_**FROM**__**:**__ Anastasia Steele, Queen of Hell_

_**DATE**__**:**__ May 21, 2011 05:02_

_**SUBJECT**__**:**__ LARP & the Real Man_

_Your letter of apology for your multiple transgressions toward me or my personal belongings was quite eloquent and to a certain extent appreciated. Appreciation however doesn't automatically breed forgiveness. Given the formality of your correspondence I considered responding in kind but alas, my head is aching and frankly Mr. Grey, in my present medicated state it's much simpler to reply with honesty and directly to your list. Call it embracing my inner Crowley. (If you don't understand this reference you can do one of two things; either read Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, or watch Supernatural on Netflix where Crowley is a main character. And we're off:_

_Sin #1__ – Violation of Privacy – Background check on me? I'm sure it provided all of five minutes of amusement for you. This isn't normal! I'm certain you found out important items such as where I worked, perhaps my bank balance, and maybe even my grades. All things that are unimportant and to some extent material and impersonal. You learned nothing about me of significance, such as: some of my favorite things: color, band, television show, movie, books, or diversions. With generic facts you were unable to ascertain if I am even a good person or am I a closet serial killer. I guess there's still time to become the latter if I remain in contact with you for a prolonged period of time._

_Sin #2__ – Stalking – See Seattle Law statute __RCW 9a.46.110 so you are better able to understand the current law as it is on the books today. Your father is a lawyer – he would be ashamed. Have you done this before? If not, let me give you a clue – normal people, heck, even slightly normal people are capable of obtaining a restraining order against you. For an intelligent, successful man, you were foolish to send me an email with so many of your 'sins' as you call them. Trust me when I say, I have the email downloaded onto multiple flash drives and stored in case I ever feel the need to file for a restraining order against you. Again – read the stalking statue._

_Sin #3__ – Photo shoots – The pictures will provide me hours of entertainment and use for the new package of multi-colored Sharpies that were in my fancy, overpriced, unwanted new desk. Kate and I will enjoy the art project immensely and who knows, maybe we will use our friend Jose Rodriguez's contacts within the art community to have our own exhibition. Perhaps we can invite my namesake the Ukrainian Tennis player?_

_Sin #4 __– Rundown – I'm thrilled in hindsight that no kissing happened at that time. Clearly I need a significant amount of therapy because I found myself attracted to you. Frankly, you are no better than my mother's third husband._

_Sin #5__ – Staying Away - You'll have to work on this one because I want you to STAY AWAY! I don't know if I can make that any clearer. I understand you have issues and that you aren't a bad person, but please, if you had any type of sentiment with regard to my well-being just STAY AWAY! I have enough self-esteem issues without having someone add to them._

_Sin #6__ – Red Room & Relationships – GET HELP! Keep Dr. Flynn on retainer and speed dial. Until you figure yourself out don't put anyone else through the crap I've been put through. I'm not saying this to be mean, I'm just trying to protect my sisterhood. The Marines motto 'Semper Fi' can I apply to women kind as well._

_Sin #7__ – Sorted Life – Thank you for the amusement park ride known as Christian & Ana's Not So Excellent Adventure. Please don't make me call Ted 'Theodore' Logan Esquire to keep you away. I wish time travel were real because I'd call the Doctor to take me back a few weeks ago so I could tell Kate to get someone else to interview you. Hands down, agreeing to go was the biggest mistake of my life … well, other than that awful blonde hair when I was fourteen. There is nothing like receiving the gift from a predator (yes, I went there – self-admitted stalker) that keeps giving – physical and emotional trauma. STRAIGHTEN YOUR CRAP OUT GREY OR YOU'LL END UP ON TV AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY!_

_As to the steps you've taken to ensure my future, I appreciate the medical bills being paid off, as if I hadn't been dragged to Seattle without being forewarned my life would be simpler. As to the other three items – _

_Your cash deposit – Keep it Mr. Grey. I don't want or need your tainted money. I'm not a whore or one of your submissives and NEVER will be – EVER! You have absolutely no right to access my bank account in any way, shape, or form. Hell, I might even consider filing charges on this alone;_

_When I'm ready, I'll find my own job thank you very much. I do not under any circumstances want to be indebted to you. Thank you for taking a quarter of the publishing houses in Seattle off my potential employer list by contacting SIP on my behalf – yes this is bitter, angry, sarcasm on my part, but you are so frustrating and have a knack for pissing me off;_

_My finals are on Monday and Tuesday. After that time, I will no longer require your security detail as I will no longer be in Seattle. I will admit however, that your team has made me feel secure and for that I do thank you and more so them. They are very good people and you should be proud of them._

_There are a few simple things I want from you:_

_My belongings back – ALL OF THEM! You had no right to order your staff to replace my personal possessions. My life – My belongings – My control, not yours. You don't realize the three most sentimental items I own were discarded like common trash due to your actions:_

_-the picture frame my late biological father purchased the day I was born along with the inscriptions; _

_-the hand carved twin bed frame my adoptive father Ray made for me when I graduated from a crib to a regular bed;_

_-the ancient dried flower arrangement that my late biological father brought to the hospital as fresh flowers when I was born._

_I understand to the people that don't know me, these items appeared old and worthy of being discarded, but all are irreplaceable to me. I'm angry, bitter, crushed, and feel violated by your disregard for my possessions. I understand they are not up to your standards and that you are, at this point in time, incapable of feeling sentimental attachment to most items, but I wouldn't trade these three items for all the money in your precious bank account. _

_All I wanted was to get out of the hospital and head home to the comfort of my things. There's comfort in the feel of my old warn cotton sheets and the smell of the fabric softener sheets used in the dryer – not new out of the package gazillion thread count sheets that smell new rather than familiar. I'm sorry, but right now I need familiar and that's gone. Congratulations – you've made the over-medicated, overly-emotional, self-proclaimed queen of hell bawl her eyes out just sitting here thinking about it. Intellectually I understand you were trying to make me more comfortable, but I'm a medicated, emotional, wreck here and right now I hate you. I'm sorry if that's harsh, but I feel like I'm clinging to an ocean dingy during Hurricane Grey. _

_I'm sorry if I'm coming off bitter, but the myriad of emotions coursing through me since my accident are overwhelming, and frankly, I was overwhelmed before my accident just trying to get through school, work part-time, and wonder what a billionaire would want with the likes of me. I understand that now, it's one utterly screwed up soul finding another. I can't make this clear enough Mr. Grey, please leave me alone._

_You also need to consider clearing the air with my father, as your action more than likely left him feeling financially inadequate and highly suspicious of your intent. You stomped all over his pride with your expensive shoes and your controlling ways, but I know he saw right through you. At the very least you owe him a sincere apology for your actions and their impact on him. Hopefully you are capable of figuring it out. If not, please feel free to do a web search on how to find a clue._

_I've kept your choice of sexual lifestyle to myself and without signing your precious NDA. I didn't do it for you. I did it for myself because no one needs to know about the day I was disrespected and offered worse than a whore's life if I allowed you to beat and fuck me in exchange for living expenses and possessions. Clearly what's valuable to me means nothing to you, and vice versa._

_With that said…_

_On Tuesday afternoon, I'm leaving Seattle until I am healed or once Kate returns from her vacation in Barbados, so I'll be gone for approximately three to four weeks. Before I return I want my belongings returned to me and the apartment cleared of every last item you purchased. There will be no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I'm twenty-one, fresh out of college and furnishing my own apartment with my roommate is a rite of passage in my mind, so please abide by my wishes._

_Might I recommend that you vacate your ivory tower and experience LARPing. I strongly recommend some adventures of LARPing as a Real Man preferably in a normal life. I'm certain your brother would expand your horizons and assist you in embracing the common man or woman in all of us. If Elliot doesn't know what LARPing is, perhaps whatever geek runs your background checks can enlighten you._

_You bring out the worst in me and make me uncomfortable with the person I am when I'm exposed to you. The self-loathing is inescapable and alarming. I've never had this happen in my life. I don't know whether to apologize for this email or just scream at you. In the end, I'm electing to send the email though I know it will cause you turmoil. I'm doing it because I'm probably irrational with the pain medication but also because of the person I've seen that you can become. Maybe if you understand what I'm feeling – all the different neurotic shades of my emotions, moving forward you won't repeat this mistake. You're better than this Grey. I saw it in your eyes when we were with Flynn. I feel like my subconscious is Yoda in Star Wars – 'anger, fear, aggression – the dark side of the force are they' we're both drowning in our own darkness and together we extinguish all light. It's terrifying._

_You're like a Peanut M&M – hard candy shell, sweet chocolate inside, that surrounds a nut. Hell, I can relate. I'm no different in many ways. How you've made me feel when we were with Dr. Flynn is different than that day at Escala. My emotions are a swirling vortex of confusion when I'm near you, but what I saw in you at the hospital was actually quite simple – you're a frightened, confused, little boy who needs to be nurtured. Every so often I caught glimpses of him staring back at me, but it took seconds for that hard candy shell to set and harden, then I was met with the closed-off, angry eyes of the terror one feels when they are raw and vulnerable – it's both heartbreaking and chilling at the same time. Unfortunately, it's all too familiar as well. I see that look every time I venture a glance into a mirror, the difference is my mask is that of a quiet bookworm, while yours is a dominant._

_No one can save you but yourself Mr. Grey. I know you are worth saving and I want to believe that I am as well, but it's easier to believe leprechauns can defecate rainbows at will. Pain medication provides interesting, intellectual imagery – leprechauns defecating rainbows. I dare you to taste that rainbow. Where was I… oh yeah, one glimpse into the eyes of the frightened little boy inside you, and it's clear you deserve so much more than the life you are living; well if you can call it living – existing might be a better word. I know because in those young eyes I see my own issues and traumas. We both have jobs to do – save ourselves. We're each worth our efforts. There's a saying: 'Don't let the bastards get you down'. I don't know what happened to you and it's none of my business, but for me it was Texas; and I won't allow one asshole in Texas to keep destroying my life, because if I do, he wins. If anything good came out of our brief acquaintance, then this is the lesson I learned. For that, I thank you._

_I wish you only the best on any personal journey to which you aspire.__ Meditate on this Mr. Grey – Mr. Thomas Paine once said: 'It is the direction and not the magnitude which is to be taken into consideration.'  
_

_Anastasia Steele – survivor, one-handed typist, and embracing her inner nut who spent 90 plus minutes pecking away at the keyboard while channeling her inner Queen of Hell._

* * *

By seven, Dad woke up for the day. He set the coffee pot to brew, then headed toward the bathroom. I could sense his discomfort and displeasure at the entire CFG situation. It's either that or he was getting ready to pass a kidney stone. Thankfully it was time for another pain pill, so if I was lucky, he'd have mercy on my soul. I know taciturn Dad has been waiting for me to feel better before pushing for more answers. I took my pill, planted myself on the couch, and waited for him to return to the kitchen.

"So Annie, are you going to tell me what's really going on with Christian Grey?" Ray asked quietly.

I sighed. Heck, I've been doing that a lot lately. "Dad, as I told you, I met him when I filled in on an interview with him when Kate was sick. When I left the interview I thought he was a controlling ass – an incredibly good looking controlling ass, but an ass nonetheless. He's a major benefactor at the university and on a subsequent trip to the school, he agreed to do a photo shoot for Kate's article. Kate met his brother at that time and they began dating. After the shoot, he asked me out for coffee. I'd be lying to you if I told you I wasn't attracted to him." I pause and bite my lip. Mental note to self, if I keep biting my lip, I'll become nothing more than a novelists cliché. Note to self – read less, interact with humanity more.

"Go on."

"I don't know Dad. You remember when I returned from … well you know. It's like part of my life stopped. I didn't date or even look at boys until Jose broke down that barrier. He was shy, quiet and trustworthy. He was my first male friend – like a twin brother. The first man I was ever attracted to was Christian, but in some ways, he's even more screwed up than I am. On our second and final date, he flew me down to Seattle for dinner at his penthouse. It was fun, but he wanted more. He never tried to force himself on me, but given my –

"History in Texas," Ray added when I couldn't proceed.

"Yes, Texas… well, I over-reacted, broke his nose, kneed him in the stones, and kicked him in the sternum – just like you taught me. He went down like a 180-lb sack of potatoes and hit his head on some steampunk statue he had and was knocked out. I called an ambulance and I ran like all hell, but I let his head of security, Taylor know I was leaving and he cared for Mr. Grey. I rented a car to head back to school. I just completely panicked."

"For someone you technically assaulted, he's been watching over you," Ray commented. "It's clear he feels responsible. Is there any chance he or someone that works for him ran you off the road?"

"None. I got in the cab Taylor exited and left. They had no idea I rented a car or where I was headed for the night. I've spoken to Taylor in the past day or so and he believes I was possibly targeted because someone assumed I was involved with Mr. Grey and they wanted to harm him. It could have been a business associate or an ex."

"Do I need to have further _words_ with Mr. Grey?" I could see the anger in Dad's eyes. He was in full-on protective mode.

"Damaged attracts damaged Dad," I reply. "I think he's been through enough in his life without anyone else damaging him more. He's working on his issues and he's a good man, although he's a bit screwed up right now. His interpersonal skills and his ability to empathize are limited, but his heart is in the right place. He emailed me over night to apologize for taking over my life and inadvertently discarding my belongings. I emailed him back stating he had three to four weeks to get this crap out of here and return my stuff."

"Nice to see some of the piss and vinegar you had in your veins when you were younger is coming back," Ray smirked. "I'm not a fan of Mr. Grey, but the big question is: Do you like him?"

"It doesn't matter Dad. I'm not going to throw myself into a relationship where it's codependence at its worst. He's a control freak and I'm just a mess who's been in denial since Texas. He brings out the worst in me and frankly, for someone so profoundly damaged as he is, my worst is the last thing he needs. My worst even frightens me lately. Yes I find myself drawn to him in a way I don't understand and it's alarming, but all that will happen, regardless of my attraction to him, is we'll just damaging each other more."

There was an awkward silence between us. I broke it. "Right now, I want to focus on getting better. After my last final on Tuesday, I want to get out of here and head home to Montesano. Once Kate moves down and finishes her family vacation, then I'll move back. Hopefully by then all of my belongings will be returned and I won't feel like I'm living in an apartment that should be roped off for a designer magazine. This place doesn't feel like home. The apartment in Portland did. All this expensive stuff just isn't important to me. I'm happy being a regular girl. Once I find a job, I want to find a therapist and work through my issues because right now they are sitting on my chest like a pallet of bricks and sometimes it's just hard to breathe."

Ray sighed – must be a family thing. "I'm glad you feel that way. You've always had a good head on your shoulders and you are making the right moves. I will tell you though, if I run into Mr. Grey, I will give him a piece of my mind. Are you still going to try to walk graduation even though he's the one handing out diplomas?"

I yawn and rest my head on the back of the couch. "I have no idea what to do about that. After the rude email I sent him this morning I'd be surprised if he won't have Taylor restrain me to protect himself. Rude is an understatement. Hateful might be a better term – cruel perhaps."

"Come on baby girl, back to bed," he orders, helping me from the couch and into my bed. I remember my head hitting the pillow before quickly falling asleep and in my dreams clinging to the dingy while hurricane Grey keeps me off balance.


	9. Chapter 9: Betw Her Dad & An Awkward Plc

**Chapter 9 – Between Her Dad & An Awkward Place**

I'm a father. Granted it's by adoption, but Annie's my heart, soul, and world. For the first time in six years she's opening up about Stephen Morton, asshole number one in my book, yet husband number three in her mothers. Am I jealous that my Annie is opening up to Christian Grey – a man she barely knows? Most definitely, but I have to remember, at least she's starting to finally talk about it now – even if she's just skimming over the mere mention of Texas to me. Grey brings out the piss and vinegar in my Annie, which we haven't seen from her since before Texas. I also know she regrets sending the yesterday's email. According to her, it was harsh, direct, hurtful, and just out of character. The entire time she told me about it, she cried about the fact that she'd never say hurtful things to someone's face as she had in that email. She bawled her eyes out for hours over his one word reply of _'uncle'_ repeatedly exclaiming she'd broken him. Hell, they are both broken. I just need to determine if further contact between them will cause Ana's frayed psyche to continue cracking.

Clearly, my little girl and Grey share an emotional attachment, but something more happened that she's not telling me. So here I am, pulling up in my truck to Escala, the building where Grey lives. Yes, I'm coming unannounced so he is off-balance. No, I don't particularly care for him. I don't know him and I'm not sure I want to know him. I'm doing this for my Annie; not that she's aware of my little trip to visit Grey.

As I approach the building security desk, I inform the uniformed gentleman that I am here to meet with Christian Grey and I tell him my name. Naturally, he tells me I'm not on the scheduled visitors for this evening. I assure him if he calls Taylor that Mr. Grey will see me. It takes a few minutes, but miraculously I am correct. It's my job to protect her and if Grey is a potential suitor, it's my duty to make sure he understand consequences if he makes my Ana unhappy.

"Mr. Steele," Taylor greets me with a firm handshake. "How can I help you?"

"Cut the crap Taylor. You know as well as I do that this visit with Grey is long overdue. I need an hour of the man's time."

He instructs me to follow him and we enter the elevator to the penthouse. When we step out of the elevator it's your typical modern, boring, white, mausoleum-like penthouse. No significant woodwork or color; just a ton of whites, beiges, and creams. Not homey at all.

"Mr. Grey is in his office; first door on the right," Taylor instructs me.

As I enter his office it appears all of the custom woodwork was reserved for this room. It's masculine, earthy, and functional. Grey is sitting behind his desk casually dressed like he's the king of the castle, yet there are dark circles under his eyes. Apparently, he's not sleeping either. At least he has something in common with my Annie.

"Mr. Steele, can I offer you a drink?" he asks after shaking my hand. I pass. "How can I help you?"

I inform him of my disdain for his redecoration of the apartment and violation of my Annie's personal space. It's a test of course. I want a true measure of the man. I know from Taylor and Mrs. Jones that it was their idea and Grey only approved it. They, along with Sawyer, Ryan, and Reynolds apologized profusely just yesterday. Annie was thrilled to discover that Sawyer placed her belongings in a storage facility rather than discarding them, so she will get them back.

"I apologize and take full responsibility for violating Anastasia's personal space and belongings. As she may have informed you, I have issues with control. Unfortunately, give me a little and I take too much. It's a character flaw I am working on it," Grey replies with embarrassment.

I like a man who accepts responsibility for the action of his team. Well, at least I've found one redeeming feature.

"How's Anastasia feeling?" he asks with concern, but I can see the hurt in his eyes.

"Emotional, withdrawn, and not herself. She regrets her reply to your email. While I haven't read it, she's told me a bit about it. I assure you, it's out of character for her."

"Unfortunately, everything she said was the harsh truth," Grey replied quietly. "I've learned that I have more to work on, in terms of myself, than I ever imagined."

I can't help but laugh. It's wrong, I know. "Don't we all. They say something good comes out of something bad. For Annie, she's finally talking about the Morton year, even if it is minor in bits and pieces to you. It's more than she's done since the day I pulled her out of there."

"Has she always had the ability to look right through people and see beneath the façade?"

"Yes, her mother not so much. My Annie thought Morton was a psycho from day one. She only went when her mother married him because of an obligation toward her. Once she was there, he wouldn't let her go. I don't know the entire story, Carla, her mom, won't talk about that time in their lives either. All I know is, I drove down to Texas to pick Annie up from the hospital when she was injured. I told Carla I was taking my daughter and that she was welcome to join us. She refused. Annie cried the entire way back to Montesano and walked around in a daze for months after that. She never even hinted at what happened during that time with asshole number three, until she met you. So in my eyes, you are either like him and she's afraid, or for some reason she trusts you. Right now, I'm begrudgingly leaning toward the latter."

"What happened to Morton?" Grey asked with interest.

I just smiled. "He's a non-issue. As they said in Ana's favorite books growing up – _mischief managed_."

"Good."

"What were your intentions toward my daughter and what are they now?" A dad's got to ask, but I have to give him my best glare while doing it.

"Anastasia both fascinates me and aggravates me," he replied after shifting in his seat anxiously. "She was the first adult person in my life I've ever felt comfortable talking to about anything. My life before my adoption was screwed up, to put it politely. When I attempted to move the relationship with Anastasia too quickly, she put me in my place. I ruined it. It both saddens me and in some ways I feel relieved, as she can see right through me. It's nerve-racking and it eliminates any sense of control over my personal life, which, I won't lie to you, just throws me entirely. In her email she informed me that being around me is like clinging to a buoy during hurricane Grey. For me it's being on the buoy during hurricane Steele. Slowly, it's made me rethink how I live in my personal life."

"Well, it goes both ways. Is that necessarily a bad thing?"

"Right now, I'm in the proverbial eye of the storm. I'll let you know once I'm through the other side." If he kept running his fingers through his hair nervously, as he has over the past ten minutes, he'd be Kojak by morning.

"You don't seem like too bad of a guy Grey, but I'm warning you, if you raise a hand to my Annie or make her cry, you'll have to deal with me. If you think I can't take down your security, well then you will be sorely disappointed. Do I make myself clear?"

He nods.

"Now let's address the elephant in the room, shall we? How is the attack on my daughter related to you?"

I watch as Grey gets up from his desk, pokes his head out of his office and yells for Taylor. Thirty seconds later, the burly Taylor appears and takes the seat next to me across from Grey.

"Mr. Steele would like to know how the attack on Miss Steele is tied to me? I thought it best if you tell him, so he understands I have nothing to hide," Grey orders. Taylor nods before turning his attention my way.

"As you have probably surmised, Mr. Grey takes great measures to keep his personal life private. He's been in a few private relationships over the years and there are a few that didn't end well in terms of Mr. Grey wanting to end the relationship and the woman at the time did not, so they didn't take it well. Mr. Grey has always been monogamous in his relationships; there have been one or two who haven't followed his lead. When my security team began investigating Miss Steele's accident, we focused on anyone who Mr. Grey has dated, along with a careful review of GEH's business deals that haven't been as smooth as he would have liked. From there, we've compiled a preliminary suspect list and our investigation is still ongoing. Our suspect list is roughly twenty women between personal and business. Based on Miss Steele's physical description of the woman driving the car that pushed her off the road, we are focusing our investigation at first on those who may have breast implants and smokers."

"Breast implants?" _What the hell are these clowns doing investigating this?_ "Perhaps you should pass the investigation back to the authorities."

"Miss Steele, when she was heavily medicated, told Sawyer and Miss Kavanagh that the large breasts of the woman who attacked her didn't move when both cars went off the road onto rocky terrain, while she felt like a James Bond martini – shaken, not stirred. So we thought it was a good assumption. This narrowed our initial list of twenty down to six; though we are still investigating the others."

"That makes a bit more sense. How long do you think it will be before this is resolved and my Annie can go back to living a normal life? The sooner the better as this situation is wearing on her and it concerns me."

"We're not certain. Hopefully soon," Taylor replies. "I'm certain Mr. Grey will agree with me when I say, we offer our security to Miss Steele until this situation is resolved." Grey nods in confirmation.

Reluctantly, I like them. Clearly Taylor and Grey mutually respect each other. I can appreciate the fact that Grey trusts Taylor. Sawyer was right – Taylor's an okay guy. And Grey, well there's something about the guy that you can't help but like – he feels redeemable. I've done my research on him – hard ass CEO, private as all fuck, yet does more good in terms of feeding the world that anyone realizes. A man who doesn't want to take credit for the good he does, to me, means one of two things – he's either got something to hide, or he's just a decent human being. Heck, maybe both. "I know Annie isn't quite ready to see you yet, but I'm taking her to the Brew House for lunch. She's been cooped up in the apartment too long. Your guy, Sawyer, is joining us. You're both more than welcome to join us."

I can tell he's considering it. The conflict is clear on his face. Ray Steele test number two Grey. Will you pass it?

"As much as I would love to join you, if Anastasia isn't prepared to see me, I should abide by her wishes. If you'd feel more comfortable with Taylor joining you for additional security, he is available."

_Bingo – passed._ "I believe we'll be secure with just Sawyer, but if Taylor would feel better joining us, I won't complain."

"I know I would feel better," Taylor replied. "Until we drill down further, my preference would be that Miss Steele not leave the apartment without at least two CPOs accompanying her."

"I appreciate it Taylor." With that, Taylor heads from the room. "Regarding to Anastasia, just give her time Grey. She knows this mess isn't your fault. She knows deep down you are a good man. She's not a callous person who intentionally would harm another, but you bring out the worst in her. As much as I hate to admit it, it's because she's drawn to you and that caused her carefully constructed walls to crumble a bit, so she's dealing with Texas along with this entire fiasco. She's overwhelmed. I'm certain if you reread the letter, it's not all bad. She might be blunt, but I know my Annie, she'll be supportive at the same time. Shift your focus away from the blunt, and allow yourself to see the sincere. I'm sure it's there. Sawyer and Taylor say you're a good man. They think quite highly of you. I trust Sawyer implicitly both with my daughter's safety and his honesty. Taylor, well, I'm getting there in terms of trust with him. You're lucky to have them on your team."

"My security and household staffs are extremely loyal. I'm quite fortunate."

In my mind, this conversation is over, but I can't help but leave him with one last thought, courtesy of my Annie. "Your personal team is filled with good people. Good people can't be bought and will never follow someone who doesn't have a similar moral compass than they do. It's not their way. I don't know you well son, but Annie has a decent measure of you. Everyone has demons. I know my Annie does. Sometimes you have to see yourself as others see you. In order to do that, you need to cast aside the biased views dysfunctional people ingrained in you early on, and see yourself for the person you truly are. Just something to think about."

* * *

It's been an hour since Ray Steele left Escala. His parting gift was something to think about. Like daughter, like father since technically, Anastasia threw the first volley via email. The email left me feeling like the lost, little, four-year old boy brought into the emergency room – vulnerable, and it sucked. Did I just focus on her blunt words? Were her words encouraging and hopeful? Did she see something good in me? Was she blunt in an attempt to pierce my _'hard candy shell'_ as she puts it?

Anastasia's letter was overwhelming. Just the thought of re-reading it left me on edge, but I was going to force myself to do it. I opened the email on my laptop and began:

Notes to self

- Read Neil Gaiman's book.

- Sin #1: I did invade her privacy with the background check, yet didn't learn anything truly personal about her. _She's right._

- Serial killer? _No._

- Direct, honest, and blunt woman – _most definitely._ Smart mouth? _Yes_ _but oddly, I find it appealing._

- Worse when medicated? _Hell yes, but the stories I've heard from both Sawyer and Taylor when she's medicated were for lack of a better word – hilarious. I mean, Juggs McFetish? Even though she's traumatized, she found something humorous about the situation. Defense mechanism? Who knows?_

- Sin #2: I consider myself good businessman, but yes, stalking, then writing her about it left me vulnerable. _What the fuck was I thinking?_

- Sin #3: The photo shoot. I'll attribute her curt, bordering on mean response to the medication.

- Sin #4: She's hard on herself but it's also the first time she compared me to husband number three. I must have inadvertently done something to trigger a memory. While I know a limited amount of information about that time in her life, I triggered something – albeit unintentionally and it sent her running and afraid.

- Sin #5: Staying away – she feels vulnerable around me and is worried about her own self-esteem. She states she knows I'm not a bad person and I have my issues, but she doesn't judge me. She's desperately trying to protect herself.

- Sin #6: Semper Fi and get help. Again, not judging, just desperate to get through to me. Is she right?

- Sin #7: Am I a predator? I stalked her - yes. I invaded her privacy – yes. If the media did this to me, would I consider it predatory behavior? Yes. _Fuck!_

- She accepted my paying her medical bills, which were nearly a hundred and ten thousand dollars, but she didn't accept my cash deposit. If I hadn't dragged her to Escala to manipulate her into my BDSM lifestyle, none of this would have happened to her. I'd willingly pay her medical bills a dozen times over. I blame myself for what befell her. Then I added insult to injury by offending her and royally pissed her off when I accessed her bank account and made a substantial deposit. She doesn't want my money or my assistance in finding employment. She's proud, with a smart mouth, and she wants to make her own way in life. She deserves my respect and perhaps emotional support while she spreads her wings, yet I completely took control and tried to crush her spirit like an insignificant gnat.

- She's thankful for the security team and honestly likes them as people. And what did my staff do and I approve? To rifle though her belongings and discard them like trash. Thankfully, Mrs. Jones, Sawyer, and Taylor placed most, if not all of her belongings into storage. The closest I come to understanding Anastasias attachment to her belongings is Charlie Tango and the Grace, yet, it something happened to them, I'd merely replace them. I wouldn't be happy but once they were replaced it wouldn't give the old ones another thought. I lack empathy and gave no thought to any sentimental attachment to those belongings she might have because I'm not emotionally attached to anything.

_- Fuck! Right now I don't feel human. She's right – I'm damaged._

- She's insecure and even before the accident she was wondering why a billionaire would be attracted to her. The answer is simple: she's gorgeous, pure, and sweet. Well, sweet until you trigger her own issues, then she's overwhelmed and in self-defense mode. Maybe she is right, we are two screwed up people finding each other.

- The offer of a submissive contract, in her mind, is akin to considering her a prostitute. Is it? I'm offering her nothing more than belongings and orgasms, in exchange for rough sex with beatings with different sex toys. It's money for sex. _Fuck! I'm no better than one of my birthmother's johns and Elena is the pimp. What the fuck is wrong with me? How could I not see this? I'm so fucked up! Anastasia is right – what I'm doing is just so wrong. Fuck!_

_What the hell is LARPing?_ After a few clicks on my laptop I now understand – _Live Action Role Playing_, and she wants me to LARP as a normal person. Can't say I blame her on that count. She recommends I turn to Elliot for assistance. _Yeah, right._

Re-reading the last few paragraphs of her email makes me feel worse. I was so focused on beating myself up emotionally, that I completely ignored what she was attempting to convey – her own feelings. She spelled them out for me in plain English and I disregarded everything she was attempting to tell me. _I'm an asshole! _I would never do that in business; there I know my competitors. I can't help but wonder if at those times that my controlling ways carry over into my personal life, if I don't throw my own rules out the window. _Fuck!_

I can relate to her comment about the different shades of emotions. I've always said I was fifty shades of fucked up, yet during the limited time with Flynn, she saw past the hard core exterior and saw the real me. She offered kind, supportive words when we were with him, and did so again at the end of the email. Her peanut M&M analogy was spot on. All the while trying to protect her delicate self-esteem. _How did I miss that?_

Anastasia claims I need to be nurtured. I didn't have that with my birthmother and with Grace I didn't allow it because I felt that I didn't deserve it. Grace tried and I pushed her away. Ray Steele was right – Anastasia and I both have issues. She sees it clearly. I became a dominant and she escaped into books. Were all my contracted submissives damaged in some way, as Ana believes? My head hurts just trying to process it all.

She even wishes me the best on my journey to save myself, offering me something to think about:

"_It is the direction and not the magnitude which is to be taken into consideration." – Thomas Payne_

Small steps are acceptable as long as they are in the right direction? This should be interesting, as I don't like waiting. I'm not a patient man. I can't help but forward the letter to Flynn before calling to schedule an emergency appointment.


	10. Chapter 10: Brew House Down

**Chapter 10 – Brew House Down**

_I'm excited!_ There, I admit it. A long weekend of studying, pain medication, and feeling like I'm being held prisoner at the apartment is over, as are my finals. Yesterday and today were rough as I adjusted to taking my finals online, but they are over. If I felt better, I'd jump as high as I could while fist pumping. Even though that crazy bitch ran me off the road, whoever she is, she couldn't keep me from finals. _Woo Hoo!_

Tonight my dad is taking me to the brew house for dinner, and then tomorrow we head to Montesano until graduation. After four years at college I miss being home. It's my first real non-doctor appointment outing since being discharged from the hospital and a trial run to see how I'll do at graduation at the end of the week. On top of that, I'm now on over the counter pain medications during the day, so I don't feel as loopy and nauseated. I woke up this morning without the mild nausea I've had since the accident. I'm actually feeling quite famished. I know I've lost weight in the past thirteen days, as dad has pointed it out at every meal while he coaxed me to eat more. When I asked Sawyer's opinion, he agreed with dad – typical, ex-military sticking together. This is why they are taking me to the brew house for meal consisting of a few sliders followed by a loaded baked potato. According to the men, it's operation: _Fatten up Anastasia_.

I made Sawyer promise to dress casual as opposed to his over-priced suit. I get that Mr. Grey probably purchases the ridiculous designer suits his security team wears, but dad and I are going in jeans, tee-shirts, sneakers, and sweaters – well, I'll wear a sweater if I can find one in my closet that goes over my injured, wrapped, and strapped-down arm.

"Annie, are you ready yet?" I hear Ray call from the living room.

I depart my bedroom, ready to go minus a sweater. "None of my jackets fit over my arm," I sigh as I glance out the window at the lightly falling rain.

Sawyer, dressed in dark jeans, tee shirt, flannel shirt, sneakers, and a dark jacket quickly comes to my rescue. He removes his jacket and with Ray's help they get my injured arm in and re-support it. The only thing hiding his firearm now is a flannel shirt. Hopefully, he'll have another way to disguise it before we get to the restaurant. "All better?" he asks.

I nod. A giggle escapes my lips as I flap my uninjured arm at them to show that the sleeve needs to be rolled up so I can at least see my fingers. Compared to me, Sawyer is a giant of a man. His jacket, which had reached half way down his backside, is almost to my knees and quite a bit heavier than I expected. It makes me feel like when I was a little kid and I was sick in winter, Ray would wrap me in his wool coat to take me to the doctor. I always felt safe snuggled up in that coat.

As we head out the door, dad informs me he's also invited Jason Taylor. I know my dad has bonded with Sawyer, but not so much where Taylor is concerned. My guess is this is about security more than anything else. I can't be angry about it though; after all, even I will admit to being nervous after what happened.

We head downstairs and get into the waiting SUV. Taylor is behind the wheel, also dressed casual. Before Sawyer gets in, he grabs a jacket that had been resting on the front seat and throws it on - firearm successfully hidden.

The short ride to the brew house was physically uncomfortable. The vibration of the SUV caused my injured ribs and arm to ache. Before I can get out of the car, dad hands me half of one of my prescription pain pills and a bottle of water. I can't help but smile, he's ready for everything. Once I take the pill, we head inside. The pictures of the restaurant I'd seen on the Internet don't do it justice. It's a combination of industrial, English pub, and distillery, with the actual brewing facility visible through a large glass wall.

Sawyer had reserved a semi-private, second level, corner table that allowed us to view virtually the entire pub below us. It's a perfect view to both ogle people and for security purposes. Our table is large and round with enough seating for eight people. My only complaint about the place is that it's cold in here, so I wrap Sawyer's jacket around me tighter. It almost goes around me twice. It would if I didn't need the armholes at my side.

I love people watching. The bar area is crawling with women - blondes, brunette's and redheads on the prowl all because some of the Seattle Sounders are supposedly here for a bachelor party in the VIP area. Once I get a glance at a few of the players, all I can think is _soccer players are the hottest athletes on the planet! Holy cow are they smoking hot! Note to self: start watching more soccer as it's a win-win: hot men and I can discuss sports with Ray._

Our server is a petite, attractive natural redhead with green eyes that keep glancing over at Sawyer. I can't help but smile. Dad and Sawyer glance at each other, smirk, then together order the Mega Appetizer Sampler Combo, a dozen Buffalo wings, and two orders of prime rib sliders to start. Sounds yummy. Dad orders the Brewhouse Sampler Beer Shots – one ounce of each of the ten different home brews on tap; Sawyer and Taylor order cokes; and I order a glass of cranberry juice with seltzer and lime. I took the half of a pain pill after all, so no real drinking for me; though I will sample some of Ray's shots as the night goes on.

The boys, as I've taken to calling them, have been sharing military stories and military museums since we've taken our seats. Oddly, I find comfort in just listening to them. I always enjoyed dad's stories growing up. It's also great to see dad in his element.

When the appetizers are served, I'm stunned. The portions are enormous, but quickly realize with three grown men, and my dad the shortest at just shy of six feet, the shared food will go quickly. Taylor picks up my oblong appetizer plate, while dad and Sawyer use the tongs to pile the food onto it – two sliders, one Santa Fe spring roll, three wings, spinach-artichoke dip and chips, homemade onion rings, and finally, mozzarella sticks with marinara. I feel full just looking at my plate.

"If I eat all this I'll blow up like Violet Beauregarde from Willie Wonka," I chastise them, but dig in.

We're all devouring the appetizers, laughing, telling bawdy jokes, and all three of them are doing impressions of me to show me what I was like while heavily medicated. It was amusing to say the least.

"This place is too close to the apartment. Once I find a job, I'm going to eat here regularly and become enormous," I laugh as I turn to Sawyer. "And don't think I didn't forget about adopting a kitten and naming him Sawyer. I'll train him to be an attack cat to protect me against mice and spiders."

"Wait until your arm is better," dad comments with a smirk. "Real men don't empty litter boxes."

Halfway through the appetizers we order our meals. How I'll fit more food into my stomach, I have no idea. In the end, I order cream of broccoli soup with an extra servings of croutons, while the guys each order the steak and rib combo – loaded baked potato and all. Where do they put it all?

A couple a few years older than dad are seated a few tables over from us. When I see the honey-blonde haired woman glancing in my direction a few times, I realize it's the doctor that treated me at the hospital. Once I've recognized her, she smiles gently at me before getting to her feet and coming over to our table.

"Ana, how are you feeling? Improving I hope," she asks before glancing oddly at Taylor, and then greets them. "Taylor, Mr. Steele, Mr. Sawyer."

"Dr. Trevelyan," they say in unison.

"I'm doing much better Dr. Trevelyan," I reply. Then it hits me, this is Christian's mother – of course she knows Taylor and Sawyer.

"Did you manage your finals? I know you were anxious over being able to study," she asks with almost motherly concern.

"I did. This is our celebration dinner. Tomorrow morning I'm heading home to Montesano to continue my recovery."

"You look wonderful. Your color is back. No dizziness or headaches?"

"Just sore with occasional headaches and dizziness, but mostly when I don't rest enough. I just can't wait to get the pins removed from my arm so I can start physical therapy."

"Two more weeks my dear, then another to recover from the surgery before starting PT. I'll let you enjoy your meal. I'm glad I got to see you again. After hearing your father and Mr. Sawyer rave about this place, my husband and I decided to try it."

"You won't be disappointed. I'm ready to pop," I laugh.

"It was wonderful seeing you again," she replied before heading back to her table.

Dad let's me try a few sips of his assorted beer shots. By far my favorite is the apricot wheat beer. Naturally dad like the bourbon barreled stout. He may be all-American, but the man likes his Guiness.

I get to my feet and all three of them follow suit. Such gentlemen. "I'll be right back. I just need to visit the facilities."

"I hope you don't mind," Sawyer commented apprehensively, "but I made security arrangements for one of the staff to check the ladies room prior to your facility usage."

I giggled. "You're kidding, right? Next you'll be telling me is that you'll be standing guard outside the bathroom door while I do my business."

He nods with a slight blush to his cheeks.

"If you make me bladder shy, I'm going to come out of the ladies room with feminine products to throw at you." I couldn't help but taunt him. Sawyer had mentioned he had three older sisters so feminine products shouldn't be an embarrassment, yet he's blushing like a ten year old. "Really Luke? You're blushing."

"Remind me never to introduce you to my sisters. They are pure evil," he replied before gently leading me toward our server, who was aware of the security arrangement and led us to the ladies room.

Luke and I wait outside the door while the server goes in and checks the restroom. "It's all yours. The only person in there is staff doing a quick products restock."

I thank her before heading into the bathroom. The facilities are even themed like a brewery with stall doors that go floor to almost seven feet in height. The tile is old school commercial four by six, with a few scattered in with custom beer recipes from the ages. Even the soap dispensers are shaped like either beer barrels or beer bottles.

A beautiful, familiar-looking, blonde woman comes out of the stall, dressed in khaki's, pub tee-shirt, and trainers with two new rolls of toilet paper in one hand, and a few empty toilet roll tubes in the other. She discards the empty tubes then turns to me startled.

I can't help but feel like I know her from somewhere. She looks like someone from school but the hair color is wrong, as is the eye color. "I apologized if I startled you."

She merely looks at me oddly and nods before turning her attention back to her supply cart. I mentally shrug before entering a stall and doing my business. When I come out and wash my hands, she's still there, refilling soap dispensers.

"Why you?" she whispers. "I don't understand."

"I'm sorry. Did you say something?" I ask while I use the complementary hand cream.

"Why you?" she demands.

When I turn to face her, I'm shocked to see a gun in her hand. I can feel the blood drain from my face as I take two steps back and find myself leaning against the cold bathroom wall. I can't help but wrap myself tighter in Sawyer's jacket.

"What do you want from me?" I softly plead.

"He chose you, not me. He wouldn't even contract me, but she said I was perfect for him," she snapped taking a step toward me.

All I could think was I'm a dead girl walking. I look at her build: fake boobs - check, smell of cigarettes –check; yet I know I've seen her before at school, but she wasn't a blond back then but a brunette. Then it hits me, she was at the hospital the day I was discharged. She was also at the Heathman in the lobby as I left with Christian after the photo shoot for coffee. _ Holy shit! She's a Christian Grey obsessive stalker. Ironic, I know. And in her mind, I'm in her way. I'm so screwed._

"Why can't you just die?" she asks me bitterly. "I mean, can't you drown after crashing your car into a river like a normal person?"

I panic and try to scream for Sawyer, which causes her to lunge at me. In an instant, I feel the barrel of her gun in my chest before two shots are fired. The pain is unbelievable. She throws me to the floor and I strike my head harshly against the ceramic tile floor. I panic, unable to breath, my vision blurry as I struggle to remain conscious. The last thing I remember is the vague image of Sawyer barreling through the door, gun drawn, but the bat shit crazy woman was ready for him. Two quick shots from her automatic and in slow motion I watch Sawyer go down with two bullet wounds to his chest before I lose consciousness.

* * *

It's been ten minutes since Taylor called me at Escala and informed me of the brew house situation. I can't believe I beat the ambulance to the hospital. Luckily I live close. Both Ana and Sawyer were shot and my mother, who was there for dinner with my father, rode in the ambulance to help tend to them.

I'm pacing near the ambulance bay by the emergency room waiting, when finally I can see the flashing lights and hear the sirens. When the ambulance backs into the bay, I can see Sawyer, covered in blood, intubated, with IV's, being rushed straight to the operating room with my mother at his side. A moment later, the gurney holding an unconscious Anastasia, IV in place, her head bandaged and bloody, with a paramedic holding a mask over her mouth and nose as he slowly pumped air into her lungs manually._ Fuck!_

Fifteen minutes later, Taylor, my father, and Ray Steele arrive at the hospital and sit on either side of me as we wait together. "What the hell happened Taylor?"

"Everything was fine. Ana left the table to go to the restroom. Sawyer accompanied her and had the restroom checked out by a member of the staff and was given the all clear as the only person in there was another member of the staff. Welch cleared all of the staff members, so odds are, Sawyer wasn't concerned and allowed Ana to enter. A minute later, all hell broke loose. Two shots were fired and everyone in the restaurant hit the floor. I ran toward Sawyer and watched him enter the ladies room as I was heading down the stairs. Two more shots rang out, and then I heard a body hit the floor and finally another shot. When I got there, both Ana and Luke were on the floor unconscious and bloody, and the woman was dead with her gun still in hand. Your mom was there. If she wasn't Sawyer would have bled out for sure."

The wait was utter hell. All three of us sat quietly waiting and feeling helpless. Ray is devastated, barely holding it together. One hour passed, then another, until finally, in the third hour, my mother, now dressed in scrubs came through the emergency room doors with a detective in his mid-forties carrying a jacket joined us.

"How is my girl?" Ray asked quickly as he got to his feet.

"Miss Steele will be fine," the detective replied, not giving my mother a chance to answer. "It appears Mr. Sawyer lent her his jacket, which happens to be bulletproof, so she's going to be mighty sore, but she'll survive."

Ray takes the jacket from the detective and we all see the two bullet holes in the chest surrounded by powder burns. "This looks like she was shot with the gun pressed against her chest."

"We believe she was," the detective replied.

"Ana has two new broken ribs, severe bruising, and a repeat head injury from when she hit the floor. She will be staying a day or two in the hospital, so we can evaluate the repetitive head trauma and provide appropriate pain relief, but she should be find long term," my mother informs us. "Mr. Sawyer is still in the operating room. His condition is critical. He took two rounds at fairly close range to the chest and one struck an artery. We're not sure at this point if he will survive. I need help notifying his family."

"I'll take care of it Dr. T," Taylor replies in a daze. "Most of his family is in Texas, though one of his sisters is a television production assistant in Vancouver Canada."

"Send the jet for her and get the rest of his family here from Texas on a charter. Spare no expense," I order.

"And the woman who did this?" Ray asked the detective.

"Dead at the scene. I took a unit to her apartment and it would be an understatement to say that she was obsessed with Mr. Grey," the detective looked at me suspiciously as he showed me a picture from her drivers license. "Do you know her? Keep in mind, she's been a blonde for a while now."

I looked at the brunette in the picture but the face doesn't ring a bell. Taylor glances at the picture and I can tell, she's not familiar to him either.

"This woman's name was Maggie Jameson and she had a shrine to you in her apartment Mr. Grey. There are pictures of you and Miss Steele in Portland at a coffee house, a hardware store, and getting out of an SUV. She also had pictures of Miss Steele coming out of your apartment the night she was run off the road. Mr. Grey, she even has pictures of you in your home and office. You might want to check both for hidden cameras. Apparently she stalked not only you, but Miss Steele as well. There were pictures in her apartment of Miss Steele at school, in the library, sitting in the quad all with an X over her face and the words 'soon you'll be dead and he'll be mine' written on them. Once Miss Steele survived the car wreck, Miss Jameson followed Mr. Steele around and must have determined that would be a good place to potentially meet up with her."

"I ordered dinner from the brew house every night and picked it up," Ray sighed. "I lead the craziness right to my daughter."

"Mr. Steele, you had no way of knowing," the detective tried to placate him. "This woman was obsessed with Mr. Grey. I'm talking pictures, candles, shrines, and she even wrote erotic bondage stories about him. It was quite disturbing. She won't be bothering Mr. Grey or your family ever again."

The detective handed us each his card before leaving. Ana's nightmare is over. Crazy has a name and it was Maggie Jameson.

Two hours later, Ray is sitting in Ana's private room. She's heavily medicated for pain and sedated as when she regained consciousness she had repetitive panic attacks. I was jealous of Ray, as I knew he wouldn't leave her side, but me, well, she wouldn't want me there. I would have sold my soul to sit by her bed all night.

Mrs. Jones brought us a large thermos filled with coffee, along with Danish, as we waited for word on Sawyer's condition. It was four in the morning before they had finished with him in the operating room and moved him to the critical care unit. Before we could leave, mom made us all donate blood. We learned Sawyer took seven units during his surgery and would probably need at least one or two more. Sawyer had told Taylor he was worried about he outing. We couldn't believe Luke bought a bulletproof jacket on his way to pick up Ana and Ray for the outing, and then roped her into wearing it. If he hadn't done that, Ana would be dead, and Luke would be severely bruised. Sawyer is a good man, and that's an understatement.

I leave Reynolds standing guard outside Ana's room, just as a precaution. The media have latched onto this story and they've connected the shooting to Ana's accident to me. I was lucky Taylor and Ryan managed to get me out of the hospital without a photograph being taken. I know my relief is going to be short-lived because I could see the questions in my mother's eyes about Anastasia, but even worse, the press was out in-force chasing the biggest story they've had on me since I earned my first billion. It was going to be a very long, next few days indeed.


	11. Chapter 11: The Kavanagh Intervention

**Chapter 11 – The Kavanagh Intervention**

If I said the last three days had been horrible, I'd be understating it considerably. Money can buy the best medical care in the world, yet even my money can't save a life if too much damage has been done. It's a rough lesson to learn. It's humbling and puts everything into perspective. Once again I feel helpless and lacking control. I hate it. If it weren't for my mother keeping me informed, I'd probably join King George in his madness. Thank goodness for Grace Trevelyan-Grey, forever my angel. Oh, how I want Anastasia to join her choir and be mine too, but in a much different way.

Night one in the hospital saw Anastasia's condition deteriorate – out of control, rapid heartbeat, falling red blood cell count, and severe nausea. Within six hours of being placed in her room when she was admitted, she was transferred to the ICU step down unit for closer monitoring. A precautionary measure for a severely bruised liver, my mother said. They were monitoring her condition through blood work, ultrasounds, medications, and CAT scans. The medications, a combination of pain meds and sedation left her unconscious most of the time, ridiculously woozy the rest of the time, well that according to her father. I wasn't allowed to see her. The one time she had regained some sense of rational consciousness, she woke up screaming for Sawyer. She was sedated again before anyone could tell her about Sawyer's condition. He was still touch and go in the ICU just down the hall from her. Overnight he received three more units of blood and a return trip to the operating room for internal bleeding.

By the morning of day two, the press was all over the connection between Ana's accident, the shooting, and me. Reynolds brought me the copies of the stories and my laptop. The headlines both shocked me and left me anxious about the police investigation shifting a bit toward my life. I couldn't believe the headlines.

_**Christian Grey's Own Chappaquiddick? **_

_**Grey Gay? Nope! Maybe He's Into Leather?**_

_**Grey Connected to Kinky Attempted Murderer!**_

_**Crazed Stalker Killed by Grey Bodyguard After Attempted Murder of Grey Girlfriend!**_

_**The Billionaire, the Student, and the Stalker – Attempted Murder in Two Acts**_

_**Steele-Grey – What's the Connection?**_

_**The Billionaire & the Bookworm!**_

_**Did Seattle's Favorite Billionaire Mislead the Police?**_

It was overwhelming. I met with Ros and my PR team, setting them on a course of action against the media speculation. This entire situation was unfair to Anastasia and her family. By the afternoon, the speculation intensified, so I took the matter into my own hands and stood before the media at a press conference with Ray Steele standing on one side of me and the chief of police on the other side. I didn't want to do it, but I had to protect Ana in any way I could.

The Chief steps up to the podium, straightens his jacket, and starts. _ Almost two weeks ago, Miss Anastasia Steele was driving from Seattle back to WSU and was driven off the road ten miles north of Castle Rock. Her rental vehicle flipped multiple times and ended up submerged in the river, though critically injured, Miss Steele survived the accident. The Highway Patrol investigating the incident determined her vehicle was forced off the road by a stolen black SUV, which was later recovered near Mount Saint Helens. DNA was acquired and after ruling out the owners of the vehicle, the investigation was left with a DNA sample from the person we believe was responsible for the attack on Miss Steele._

_After her release from the hospital, Miss Steele was recovering at home. When she was well enough, her father and two friends, who happen to work for Mr. Grey, took her to dinner at the brew house; where Miss Maggie Jameson attacked her. Miss Steele was fortunate that Mr. Luke Sawyer, who was critically injured in the brew house attack, provided her with his jacket earlier in the evening. Mr. Sawyer's current employment is as personal protection to Mr. Grey, he is also the co-founder of a small local company currently developing a recreational line of bulletproof clothing. Miss Steele was shot twice in the torso at point-blank range before Mr. Sawyer could get to her. Neither bullet permeated the jacket, though they caused significant internal injuries. Mr. Sawyer was shot twice in the chest before he managed to shoot Miss Jameson, who was at that point turning her attention back toward Miss Steele._

_The DNA recovered in the SUV is a match to Miss Jameson. Upon investigating Miss Jameson's apartment, we've determined that she's been fixated with Mr. Grey for years. In her apartment was a shrine, complete with pictures, candles, and news articles on Mr. Grey dating back to the beginning of his business career. The only personal connection we can find is Miss Jameson attended high school with Mr. Grey's sister, Mia Grey, though from what we understand, never knew each other. According to Miss Jameson's parents, their daughter would see Mr. Grey occasionally pick his sister up from school and fixated on him back then because he had been kind to her when she dropped her books. The Jameson's acknowledge that their daughter was troubled and didn't know Mr. Grey. They didn't however feel she was a threat to anyone's wellbeing. Unfortunately, they were incorrect on that matter._

_Any questions?_

The chief pointed at a tall, male reporter who I knew worked for the Seattle Noz. "What's Mr. Grey's connection to Anastasia Steele?"

"_Miss Steele interviewed me just under a month ago for the WSU school newspaper. Her friend, the newspaper editor, was ill that day and Miss Steele took her place. She came to my office with the editors questions, a tape recorder and completed the interview," I replied. "About a week after that, we did a photo shoot while I was at the school visiting the agriculture department. The article is set to appear in the graduation issue this week with co-authors Katherine Kavanagh and Anastasia Steele."_

"_That's it?" the reporter asked in mocking disbelief. "She had two of your bodyguards with her when she was shot. Your bodyguards took care of her security after the car accident both while she was in the hospital and afterward, if reports are to be believed. Plus there's your questionable broken nose. There's more here Mr. Grey."_

_I was surprised when Ray Steele took the microphone. "Son, you can sit on your ass and dream up all the conspiracy theories you'd like, but sometimes the truth is just boring. My daughter Anastasia knows Mr. Grey from the interview and a photo shoot for the article. The connection between Mr. Grey, Anastasia, and the security team stems from my longstanding friendship with Luke Sawyer, who I know from the military. My daughter was in Seattle the night of her accident to redo the photo shoot, as the pictures were lost in a computer system crash. My daughter was attacked on her way back to school."_

I have to admit, I'm shocked. Ray Steele lied to the press to protect me. Why?

"_So there's no romantic relationship between Mr. Grey and Miss Steele?" another reporter asks._

_Ray laughs heartily. "No sir, there isn't. My daughter hasn't seen Mr. Grey since she was discharged from the hospital, where he visited her once to make sure she was recovering. I took her to her new apartment here in Seattle, where she was moving to after graduation. There she was recovering and studying for finals, which she took remotely earlier this week. We were out celebrating the end of her college career with friends at the brew house when she was attacked. It was her first non-physician outing since the original attack."_

"_How are your daughter and Mr. Sawyer feeling Mr. Steele?" a female reporter I knew from Kavanagh Media asked._

"_First, thank you for your concern for their wellbeing, which one would have thought would have been issue number one today, not idiotic speculation. They are both recovering, albeit slowly. I'm looking forward to taking her back home to spend a significant amount of time with her friends and family as she processes everything that's happened. I'm hoping her privacy will be respected, as surely you can understand these past few weeks have been extremely traumatic. More than anything, I would like to thank Mr. Grey, Mr. Sawyer, and the Grey Security Team for watching over my Annie during this time. _

"_For those in the media who have been looking to a salacious story here – there just isn't one. This is a tragedy for not just my family, but for the Sawyer's, the Grey's, and in particular, the Jameson's, who struggled with their child's emotional issues for years. They are parents hurting as much as I am. Even when your children are troubled, you don't stop loving them. Heck, sometimes you love them even more because you want nothing more than to help them. So as a parent, I'm asking to please treat the Jameson's with the privacy and respect they deserve. What they must be going through is unimaginable. Dissecting this entire situation with rampant speculation will cause them further emotional trauma, which is the last thing they need. _

"_To make statements about a 'Grey Chappaquiddick' is irresponsible journalism in an attempt to sell newspapers or web site hits based on lies. The reality of Mr. Grey is actually much simpler – his personal staff, family and employees are fiercely loyal to him, and vice versa. He's given more to food-based charities each year than the lump sum salaries of everyone in this room multiplied tenfold. So rather than try to rip a good man down with your keystrokes, might I suggest you find a good cause and support it as Mr. Grey has over the years."_

"_Mr. Grey, you have been criticized over the years for walking around with personal security," the Kavanagh Media rep asked with a barely contained smirk. "How do you respond to those critics now?"_

"_I've been fortunate in my career and have built up a highly profitable company with my trusted leadership team. With that comes public exposure, which is difficult to come to terms with when all you really want is privacy. With money and publicity come threats. Early on, I didn't take them seriously, but when my family was threatened, I hired a security director and he helped me compile a security team. It's an unfortunate part of life, with the upside being you are surrounded by good people with your best interests at heart," I replied. "When you are in the public eye, people speculate, exaggerate, and sometimes outright lie. You grow thick skin and do your best to move on. This situation proves the effectiveness and necessity of my security team, but no matter how good they or the Seattle Police Department are, they can't follow someone, like Miss Jameson, who never outwardly made a threat toward me, my family, or Miss Steele; who was in the wrong place at the wrong time."_

"_Will you see Miss Steele again?" another reporter asked._

_I couldn't help but sigh. "By merely interviewing me, Miss Steele has lived through two extremely traumatic events. I highly doubt she'll want to see a person she knew from interviews ever again after that. I mean, would you? I think I speak for my security team and myself when I say, we just want the best for Miss Steele."_

"_Thank you for coming," Chief Sampson ended the press conference._

Anastasia always described Ray Steele as taciturn, but after that press conference, where he not only held his own, but also put a few people in their places with his scolding, I saw a man who would do anything to protect his daughter. Hell, he even defended me quite eloquently and helped protect my privacy. For all the crap he's given me since all hell broke loose, the more I get to know him, the more I can honestly say I like him. That, and it feels great to feel like I'm on his side for a change. I can see why Ana adores him.

…

Night two saw no measurable change to Anastasia's condition, but Sawyer improved significantly. While technically not out of the woods yet, he regained consciousness long enough to ask about Anastasia and relaxed when he heard she would be fine. At least we thought she would be. Taylor arranged for nearby hotel rooms for his parents and three sisters. I was grateful. One thing I realized straight away was the Sawyer's were a close-knit family and they welcomed Ray Steele as one of their own. Military families tend to stand together in times of crisis. Thankfully, after the press conference, the media coverage and speculation dwindled.

On the third day, Sawyer was moved from the ICU to the step down unit, one room away from Anastasia. Both were heavily medicated, but when conscious, Sawyer explained what happened at the restaurant in great detail. Anastasia, according to Ray and Taylor, was dazed, quiet, and appeared lost in her own overwhelmed mind. She hadn't uttered a single word. When the nurses asked her if she was in pain, she shook her head yes or no. Beyond that action, she was unresponsive – even to her father. She would gaze out the window, sleep, or occasionally sob uncontrollably until she fell asleep. According to Ray, this was how she was for months after her time in Texas. It was heartbreaking to see her both physically and mentally broken.

Today, day four, while I flew up to WSU to graduation, both Ana and Sawyer were moving from the ICU step down unit to side-by-side private rooms. Security was easier having them near each other and thankfully the hospital was obliging.

I hadn't seen Anastasia since the night with Flynn in her hospital room nearly two weeks ago. I wanted to see her, but Ray informed me she wouldn't want anyone seeing her the way she was right now – borderline catatonic, in pain, and lost. So I did what I had to do, which was take Charlie Tango to the graduation with Taylor, then I flew back this evening with Kate Kavanagh. It was the only thing I could think of doing – bringing Ana her best friend. Her mother declined my offer of a private jet to come see her only daughter. If I ever had the opportunity to meet Carla Adams, I would give that uncaring bitch a piece of my mind.

Ana was gazing out the window of her room as Ray, Taylor, and I watched Kavanagh enter. The minute Kavanagh gently touched her friend's shoulder, Ana turned, clung to her as if her life depended on it, and sobbed uncontrollably in her arms. Hell, both women were crying, yet Kate Kavanagh led her to her bed, curled up with her, cried and soothed her friend. All the while, the door to the room remained half way open. We felt like voyeurs, yet we couldn't turn away.

"It's over Ana," Kate soothed as she stroked her best friend's hair. "She can't hurt you anymore." She gently rubbed Ana's back while she cried. "You didn't deserve this. I know right now it sucks. I know you, you're reliving it in your nightmares even while awake, but if you don't stop and talk about it, you'll be consumed by it. You're the strongest person I know. You can and will get through this. I promise."

Slowly Anastasia began to calm down. We watched as Kavanagh grabbed tissues and wiped her friend's eyes. "Remember when we took that psychology class together?"

Ana nodded, yet still clung to her friend.

"We learned talking about stuff will help set you free. Remember when you got my sorry ass back on skis after my accident that first winter, when I wouldn't talk about what I felt after clipping the tree. Yet now, I ski all winter long. You pushed me to face my fear sister of mine, and it helped. Now it's my turn to help you. Tell me what happened at the restaurant. I promise, you'll feel better afterward. I promise," she whispered kissing the top of her friend's head.

As annoying as I found Kate Kavanagh, I couldn't help but watch her in awe, as Anastasia appeared to be contemplating opening up. We all startled a minute later, when Anastasia remained silent, causing Kate to snap at her _'Come on Steele! Talk dirty to me! Give it to me girly!'_ then they both burst out laughing. The sound of laughter allowed the three of us to relax. Sawyer must have heard, because he slowly emerged from his room heavily supported by Reynolds and joined us. Between Reynolds and Taylor they kept Sawyer upright.

Anastasia's voice, when it finally came, was trembling in fear, yet somehow still soft. "She was there when I entered the bathroom dressed like staff, so I didn't think anything of it. Nothing appeared out of place, yet when I exited the stall, she asked why me and not her a few times. I didn't understand, but she smelled like cigarettes and I instantly grew fearful. When I turned back to her, she had a gun pointed at me and I knew it was the woman from the car from her … well, her –

"Ginormous jugs?" Kate asked with a giggle. "Twin balloons? Massive Maguffies! Over-inflated yabos! Carry-on airbags? Utterly unbelievable udders?"

I had to admit, Kate Kavanagh knew how to handle her friend. She got Ana, not only to giggle but to blush while reliving her worst nightmare and continue talking.

"She was at WSU. My mind flashed back to everyplace I'd seen her – school after the interview, the Heathman after the photo shoot, the coffee house when I had coffee with Mr. Grey, outside the GEH building the day of the interview, in the hospital when I was here last time, outside our Seattle apartment when I looked out the window. She was everywhere but I didn't pull it all together until just then. I'd seen her as a brunette, redhead, and a blonde. I even saw her in photographs of Mr. Grey that were online when I researched him after the interview. She seemed to be lurking everywhere in the background as part of the crowd. I panicked in the bathroom when I understood that she was obsessed with him and she felt I was in her way."

Ana began crying softly and it tore my heart to pieces as I listened. I glanced at Taylor, Ray, Reynolds, and Sawyer and clearly they were feeling the same way.

"She asked me why I couldn't just die like normal people in a submerged car accident. Her eyes were wild, out of control, and terrifying. As I tried to scream for Sawyer, she shoved me against the wall and pushed the gun into me pulling the trigger twice. It felt like the air had been forcibly taken from my lungs and I'd never been in that much pain before. As I was sinking to the floor, she pushed me head first to the ground. I hit my head hard on the floor tile, felt dazed, in pain, bleeding, and my vision was blurry. I still couldn't breathe. I watched Sawyer come in but she had already pointed her gun toward the door. It was horrifying hearing the shots ring out and watching him go down in a bloody heap as I lost consciousness.≈"

She now sobbed uncontrollably in Kate's arms. "Sawyer got shot because of me. There was so much blood. He's dead because of me."

"He's not dead sweetie. I promise," Kate soothed as she held her friend. "He's just in the next room a bit worse for wear, just like you. He put a bullet in plastic psycho Barbie's head. I promise, she can't hurt you anymore. You're both going to be fine. Look at me," she ordered as she gently held the sides of Ana's face and brought her gaze to hers. She points at Sawyer, motioning for him to come into the room. "You have a visitor Ana," she tells her wiping her friend's eyes with more tissues.

We watched as she turned toward Sawyer as he slowly entered her room. The emotions crossing her face are priceless – fear, relief, and then pure happiness as she carefully gets out of bed and lunges at Sawyer. Ana might be tiny, but in Sawyer's current condition, we're lucky Taylor and Reynolds kept him on his feet or he'd be on the floor.

"Luke! Oh thank God you're alive. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," she sobs in his arms.

"It's not your fault. Hell, I'm just glad the jacket worked," he replied attempting to soothe her. "Now come on short stuff, we both feel like hell, let's sit down before we fall down."

She nodded as he escorted her back to bed. It was difficult to tell which of them was truly supporting the other. Once she was settled, he then sank into the nearby chair. Surprisingly, she motioned us all into the room – even me. Taylor grabbed the chairs from Sawyer's room and we all sat down. I was shocked she allowed me into the room, so I sat in the chair furthest from her and tried to blend into the background.

"Tell me about that jacket," she asked Sawyer softly. "Why did you give me your jacket?"

"I couldn't shake the feeling we were missing something. I'm a co-founder of a small start up company that is working on a more fashionable line of bulletproof clothing," he replied. "Since I knew they had fitted me with the first test jacket, I grabbed it on my way to your apartment. I knew you wouldn't be able to get your injured arm into your own jacket, so I had hopped you'd wear it just in case. I'm a big fan of better safe than sorry, so I left my regular jacket in the car with Taylor."

"But—" Anastasia tried to protest his actions, yet he cut her off.

"Ana, you were the target, not me. My job was to keep you safe and I took what I deemed the necessary precautions. If it's not obvious, it worked. I imagine you're bruised beyond belief but the bullets didn't get through the jacket, right?"

We watched as she covered herself with the sheet up to her waist, then pulled up her hospital gown and showed us the area from her navel to just below her breasts. Her small torso had some of the worst bruising I'd ever seen and judging by the collective gasps in the room, everyone else's too. Dark purplish black as far as the eye could see. It was horrifying.

She looked down her top and laughed nervously. "Holy poop! The lower half of my breasts look like little eggplants. No wonder I hurt like all hell." She giggled, before cringing in pain. "How are you feeling Luke?"

"I've had better days. If it weren't for Reynolds, I wouldn't have made it into your room. Right now, I'm just feeling like a captive prisoner. Between being in here and my family smothering me I could use a vacation," he replied with a smirk. "Sometimes being the baby of the family is a bad thing. My three sisters and my mother keep trying to fluff my pillows and mollycoddle me. Thankfully my dad took them sightseeing today since they are leaving at the end of the week. I love my family but sometimes they forget I'm not five years old anymore."

"But who's going to help you when you are discharged in a few days?" Ana asked him with concern. Leave it to Anastasia to worry about those around her more than herself.

"Luke and I discussed it. He's agreed to recover in Montesano with us," Ray informs her. "A few weeks of country living and fresh air will do you both good. Besides, he saved my little girl; the least I can do is offer him some hospitality while he recovers. We might even take in some fishing when he's up to it. In the meantime, we can continue our little book club."

Ana's face had the biggest grin on it. I know from Taylor that Luke Sawyer was quickly becoming the big brother she always wanted but never had, so I was happy for her, yet jealous as all hell of her affection toward him.

"That makes me feel better," Kate replied. "At least I know you'll be well taken care of while I'm in Barbados for a few weeks with my folks and Elliot."

"Elliot is really going with you?" Ana asked in shock.

Kate blushed and nodded with a grin on her face. I knew my brother was as smitten with Kate Kavanagh as she was with him, but going on vacation together after knowing each other less than a month? Ridiculous.

"Grey took me to the condo to drop off my bags. He told me what he and his staff did and how you ordered him to get rid of the stuff they put in there, but Ana, really? You now have a big girl bed. I understand Ray made the bed you've slept in since you were two years old, but come on – if you can wear Victoria Secret underwear, you should sleep in a big girl bed. You should store the bed Ray made you at his house for the day you your first child graduates from a crib. Besides, Mr. Got Rocks made an effort to do something nice and ensure you are comfortable in your recovery. As much as I'm not a fan of Mr. Moneybags," she couldn't help at smirk at me before continuing, "his heart was in the right place. Besides, you should have yelled at him for not going to town on my room." She turned to me, grinned broadly, and then added, "Elliot and I like our beds bouncy if you don't mind."

"Katie!" Ray snapped at her in a fatherly manner as everyone else laughed. "If I were your father you'd be grounded until your fifty for that remark."

"Oh Ray," she sighed hugging him. "Not everyone can be as pure and virtuous as our Ana. I hate to disillusion you, but most women my age are more like me than they are like her. I know you love me anyway."

"I do Katie. You've been good for my Ana and she's been good for you."

We watched as Ray and Kate teased each other back and forth for a few minutes. When our gaze returned to Ana, she had dozed off. We then glanced at Sawyer and he too had dozed in his chair. Kate climbed back into bed next to Ana, wrapping her arms around her, while we left the room to give them some peace and quiet.


	12. Chapter 12: Leveling the Playing Field

**Chapter 12 – Leveling the Playing Field**

It's been a week since both Ana and Sawyer were discharged from the hospital and headed to Montesano to recover. Sawyer sends Taylor and I an updated twice a day, but I haven't heard from Anastasia at all. I don't know why I expected to, but I did. Maybe it was more hope than expectation. It's taken all of my self-control not to reach out to her. Ray has called me every other day to let me know how they are both doing, which is more than I expected from him.

To take my mind off things, I've spent time working, sparring with Bastille, or on appointments with Flynn. Well, that, and having Mrs. Jones work with Taylor to create a dream bedroom for Kate at the new apartment while she's vacationing in Barbados. As much as she grates on my nerves, I can see what Ray meant that though Kate and Ana are polar opposites, their friendship works. Ana keeps Kate's feet firmly planted on the ground, and Kate pushes my favorite bookworm to be more outgoing. So if I ever have a chance at a relationship with Anastasia, I need to make peace with Kate. Besides, Elliot is infatuated with her and even my parents are thrilled about it.

Even work is slow right now. We have two acquisitions ongoing, but Ros is on top of them. I actually feel useless. I've reviewed half a dozen contracts this week and didn't have to amend any of them. My team is too good. The one thing I did work on personally was a contract to buy into Sawyer's company to produce fashionable bulletproof clothing and emailed it to him. I'm waiting to hear back, but I can't imagine him saying no to a silent partner who wants to infuse some major cash into his business. After the past few weeks, I would feel better if my security detail were better protected.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in."

Taylor enters carrying a pastry box with a letter attached. "Lacey Sawyer dropped this off for you. She was in Montesano visiting Luke for a few days and Miss Steele sent this for you.

"Miss Steele sent me a package?" I asked as I took it from him and looked at the envelope. It was her handwriting and the envelope made me smile. It said:

_**To: Mr. Christian Grey, CEO & Control Freak Extraordinaire**_

_**From: Ms. Anastasia "Out of her Mind on Pain Meds" Steele**_

_**Be a good boy Mr. Grey and read the letter before you open the box.**_

I glance at Taylor skeptically. He merely smirks and informs me that per Sawyer, Ana has baked every night since she's been home. It's how she copes. He's probably gained ten pounds in one week between her baking and her cooking.

"Thank you Taylor," I say dismissing him as I remove the handwritten letter from the envelope.

_Dearest Mr. Grey,_

_First and foremost, I want to apologize for the tone of my response to the letter you emailed me a few weeks ago. I stand by the message, but not the tone of the letter. There is no excuse for my bitterness toward you, when your apology was sincere; so for that I seek your forgiveness._

_I've learned a great deal about you over the past month from the things you've told my father, to what you've told me, and to what I've weaseled out of your mother while she cared for me. Your mom is AWESOME OKAY! Yes, I'm doing my best cheerleading voice, not that I was ever a cheerleader or desired to be one. Since Luke was griping about being a little brother, I'm playing the role of little sister and forcing him to watch all of my favorite teen movies. We started with 'Bring It On' and Luke is sick of me already. He says I need downers because the pain meds are having opposite impact on me so I'm beyond hyper. To which I replied: Tough crap Luke, pain meds authorized and necessary, so sue Dr. T for prescribing them! _

_Wow, I'm not capable of linear thought. I keep getting side tracked. Oh yeah, leveling the playing field in the spirit of Grey-Steele fair disclosure act of 2011. Grey-Steele reminds me of something out of Zoolander. Have you seen that movie? It's one of my favorites. If so, give me your best blue steel. I'm waiting! _

_Sorry, the medicine made me stupid and I fell asleep. I'm more coherent now – promise! Though at times my thoughts may still be scattered. Ray and Luke say it's an endearing trait, so if you have issue with it, take it up with them. Neither one of those two know to put the toilet seat down. Are all men like this? I don't like going splash in the middle of the night. Stupid men. If it happens one more time, I'm going to sew the escape hatch closed on all their underwear. That will teach them._

_Wow, I read back what I've written so far and I promised to send the unedited version. I'm going to get coffee before I continue making a fool of myself. As much as I hate coffee, I hate looking like a fool even more._

_Back!_

_I know I've mentioned to you how my time in Texas damaged me. It's something I've never spoken about, but since I know most of your dirty laundry per-se and without a signed NDA, I thought it was only fair that I shared mine._

_My mom divorced Ray because she cheated on him with husband number three, Stephen Morton. Ray and I were both devastated. I was a junior in high school at the time and even back then I was on the shy side and a bit of a bookworm, though I was a bit of a smart ass sometimes. Mom insisted I live with her and Morton, whom I never liked. They dragged me to Las Vegas with them. _

_My mom is a hopeless romantic and is one of those women who flutters from relationship to relationship, because she doesn't believe she can make it on her own. I can only attribute that to her parents. From what I've been told about them by both her and Ray, were they were a textbook case of codependency at it's worst. She was a product of her environment, as we all are growing up, but she was never given the tools to look to become something more. The one thing my mother did absolutely right, was provide me with nearly sixteen years of a stable foundation with my dad, Ray._

_I know there are many people unhappy with my mother right now, Kate, Ray, Jose, Jose Sr., Luke and probably you, when she didn't come to see me either time I was in the hospital. Frankly, I would have been shocked if she had. I love my mother; though there are times I don't particularly like her. Should she have come up while I was in the hospital? Yes, but the reality is, she's playing the emotional hand she was dealt in life. While I don't like it, I understand it and will never repeat that mistake. I will not be like her. It was an early lesson in the knowledge that some people can't get passed their upbringing. I can't allow that to be me. I can't._

_Mom grew up in a middle-class family and dreamt of more. When I was growing up, she used to watch all these stupid television shows and dream about having a more upscale life. Ray is just Ray – he has no need for expensive material possessions, and I'm the same way. We were happy, but mom wasn't. Ray and I might not be genetically related, but there is little doubt that I am his daughter._

_I'm grateful Mom stayed with him as long as she did. Deep down, I knew one day she would leave him and that made me cling to Ray even more. I had a great childhood here in Montesano. We fished, hiked, watched sports, hunted, went to classic car shows, and did just about everything together. My mom must have felt left out, because she didn't want to do any of those things. She wanted country clubs and socials. So when mom met Morton, it was the beginning of the end. He fed her fantasy though he had no way to make it happen. She lived in her happy, little dream world and idealized a monster._

_Mom and number three dragged me to Las Vegas to live for a week. We moved to Texas abruptly because one of the neighbors heard me screaming and called the police while I was home alone with Morton. He told her we were moving to Texas for a refinery job and she readily agreed no questions asked._

_I didn't want to go even further away from Ray, but didn't get much of a choice. At first, they both found jobs and worked full-time, while I attended high school. It's difficult adapting to a new school when you are an extremely shy and reserved person by nature. I realize now that this was part of number three's plan back then – abuse by isolation. Mom would be working the night shift as a ward clerk at a hospital, leaving me all alone in the apartment with him._

_It started with ogling, moved onto sexual and derogatory remarks, and escalated into inappropriate touching. It was six months of hell. All the time I fought back tooth and nail. My mother didn't believe me back then. She accused me of trying to break them up so I could return to Montesano with Ray. We didn't speak again until my last day in Las Vegas. They were the worst six months of my life and it all came to a head one night when number three was drunk and made a pass at me. I fought back, which angered him. He beat me to within an inch of my life with his hands, his belt, and hit me with a dining room chair. When the fight was knocked out of me, I sobbed as he started to rip my clothes off after he'd taken off most of his. I was lucky that night. My mom came home early from work because of a migraine and saw first hand what was happening to me. She picked up a vase and broke it over his head, and then called an ambulance, the police, and Ray._

_Morton ended up in jail for a year. I ended up back to Montesano with Ray the next day with a broken arm, ribs, and emotionally destroyed. My mom couldn't face me. She knew she was in the wrong. She moved back to Las Vegas, as she'd liked it for the week we lived there. Her marriage to Morton lasted six months. Our estrangement lasted just over a year after that because she felt I was better off without her._

_I returned to Montesano with all of my self-esteem beaten out of me and fearful of everyone. I found it difficult to trust both men and women after that. My dad was the only person I trusted and even then, I withdrew into my own head, books, and schoolwork. I didn't cope with anything that happened to me – I avoided it like the plague. I dressed down to avoid any unwanted attention. I read or did school work sixteen hours per day. This is how I spent the second half of my junior year in high school and all of my senior year._

_I chose to attend WSU, though I was accepted to Stanford, because it was close enough to Ray that I felt safe. I knew it was a short, two-hour drive home. I needed to know that I could be there if I felt the need to. I became more of a clingy daddy's girl than I had been before Texas._

_Adjusting to college life was difficult. When I went to my dorm room that first day, I was shocked to find it was a co-ed dorm. I literally sat in the corner of my closet and had a massive anxiety attack. I called Ray. He helped calm me a bit and promised to try to find me a non-coed dorm._

_I went to the housing office and begged to get into a different dorm. I couldn't explain the why's, but there I was, having a massive panic attack in public, when Kate, who I didn't know back then, comes over and soothes me, before turning to the woman behind the counter at the housing counter and yells at her, "Can't you see she's in the wrong dorm? You people are idiots. She requested a non-coed dorm. Clearly there's a reason. And while we're at it, I requested a private room. You idiots got both wrong."_

_When they informed Kate that there weren't any changes available, she told them to screw themselves. I remember watching her in awe. She was powerful and self-assured – two things I'd never been. She called her dad, who was a major donor to the journalism program, and he put us up in a hotel for a week while he bought the apartment we lived in for the next four years. _

_When the housing office refunded me my housing stipend and my meal plan dollars, I offered them to Kate's father, who was there to close on the apartment. Mr. Kavanagh pulled me aside and said, "My Katie has been spoiled rotten by her mother since she was a baby. She needs someone like you in her life, someone normal so she can learn to empathize with people. Keep your money baby girl. It's nice to see her protective of someone who isn't herself. Teach her how to cook and send me pictures of the disasters. I need a good laugh sometimes. You two need each other. It's nice to see Katie with friends who aren't entitled, spoiled little rich kids." So each semester, I used my housing stipend for groceries and tried to teach Kate to cook. I would have been better off trying to train a monkey. Hopefully your brother can cook, because she's hopeless, but God I love her like a sister._

_Kate brought me out of my shell to a great extent. She pushed my comfort zones and while I haven't told her any details of husband number three, I know my mother has and asked her to watch out for me. See, my mom isn't all that bad. She's just a lost soul sometimes. You call Grace your savior and your angel. Ray, Kate and Jose are mine._

_My Miss Kavanagh dragged me to book clubs at first to get me out of my own self-imposed exile. Once I got comfortable with that, she dragged me out to bars for happy hours. Then twice she got me to go with her to clubs. I'm definitely not a club person. There are too many strangers and it never feels safe._

_Jose was the first guy I ever trusted. We met on campus when we both got lost trying to find our way to class. If it was at all possible, he was even shyer than I was. There are two kinds of Latin men, well at least that I've met, many are outgoing and vibrant, and others are like Jose, painfully shy and awkward. He's highly intelligent and the first person in his family to attend college. He studied engineering, yet he was artsy. Some of my best memories were of him picking me up at four in the morning with a thermos of coffee in hand so I could accompany him to photograph the sunrise, and then heading back for the sunset with an ice cream sundae._

_We used to talk about our mothers. His mom died when he was a teenager and his father was lost without her. Hell, they both were. On the first parent's day on campus, when our father's both showed up, we realized they knew each other from their military service. After that, the Rodriguez's and the Steele's spent a great deal of time together on weekends and vacations. Jose became the little brother I never had. For me, he was safe. I knew he wouldn't try anything. It took him being drunk off his butt to try to kiss me and it wasn't welcome. I'm glad he didn't succeed._

_I didn't date through high school or college. Not once, not at all. Fear is a powerful motivator and men in general terrified me. It was like I shut that part of myself off. I wasn't ever attracted to anyone in real life and, unlike most girls my age back then, I never crushed on an actor either. It was like the off-switch was clicked and locked down. I didn't mind it because I was safe and for me, that was the most important thing._

_And then I met you and the switch clicked on. You are the only man I've even been attracted to and the only man I've willingly kissed. You made me feel alive for the first time and it scared the heck out of me. Your mood swings and controlling nature left me further on edge, but there was something about you that I trusted, until you showed me that room. Absolute, blind, raging panic took over me. I remember standing there and in my minds eye, all I could see were flashbacks to number three's abuse and I felt like I couldn't turn it off. I had a pure adrenaline reaction when you touched me and I struck you. It was hurt, or get hurt in my mind. It was fight or flight and I did both – fight first, flight second._

_After I ran called an ambulance for you and ran into Taylor outside Escala, I got into the cab, rented a car, then parked and cried for an hour. I was absolutely paralyzed just sitting in the dark wishing I wasn't me. Then I embraced my inner Kate Kavanagh and got angry. Angry was good, so by the time Taylor called, I was filled with something I'd never felt before – self-righteous indignation._

_The rest of the story, until last week, you already know. I've stated numerous times that you bring out the worst in me, but talking to Luke and Ray lately, I understand it now. I was disappointed in you for wanting to take me into that red room and it reinforced the lack of self-worth beaten into me by number three. If we'd met before my time with Kate, I'd have withdrawn into my books after that incident, but Kate helped me lay the building blocks of who I want to become, so a new defiant attitude seeped out of me, along with my long smothered smart ass. It was the first time since number three where I actually tried to defend myself. Clearly, I need to find a middle ground and yes, I'm working toward it._

_I'm sorry I went bat shit crazy on you over the redecoration of the apartment. Sawyer arranged for Ryan to bring me the few items I honestly couldn't live without. You will be happy to know, I'm sitting on the bed my step-father made for me when I was a little girl and resting on my bedside table are the framed picture of my birth father holding me in it's original frame. The dried flowers have become potpourri, which I've stuffed into a mesh bag and sewed into the small teddy bear Ray got me when I had my tonsils removed at the age of six._

_I'm sorry that I can't be what you think you need and desire, but if I attempt to become what you need, I'll only lose myself and I can't allow that to happen. I hope we can at least remain friends. I feel like I'm taking my first steps forward to learning to be more self-confident and maybe even reside a little less in my own little fantasy world in my head._

_I hope you know that I only wish you the best. You will always be special to me._

_With love and hopefully continued friendship,_

_Anastasia_

_P.S.: If I rambled, I'm sorry but please remember: I'm still on pain meds and I got through this entire letters without any boob jokes! YAY ME!_

_P.P.S.: I never realized how often I used the word hope. Guess that's a positive thing given the past month. YAY ME AGAIN!_

I must have sat here for an hour, reading and rereading the letter. Honestly, I've read the last line before her sign-off over and over again. She wants to remain friends and signed it with love. Even after everything, she still wants to be friends. I don't understand it.

Finally, I give in, untie the purple ribbon on the box and pull the cover off. Inside is a homemade, chocolate cake inscribed:

_**You're a good man Christian **_

_**and I trust you!**_

_**Never forget it!**_


	13. Chapter 13: Blue Steele

**Chapter 13 – Blue Steel**

I feel like a disobedient child rather than the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. After re-reading Anastasia's letter repeatedly, I took a picture of the cake she'd sent me, and then devoured half of it. That picture was now the wallpaper on my phone, replacing Charlie Tango. It gave me hope. She was so open, honest, and ridiculously amusing that it made me desire her even more if that's possible. I wanted to sleep with her - yes, but there was just something about her leaving me just want to be in the same room with her and soak in her aura. Now if my stomach stopped churning from the earlier sugar-overload, I'd be content.

I send Anastasia a quick thank you text. I want to say more, but the words just don't come. My brain feels like it's warming up for a marathon and the feeling is alarming. A few deep breaths calm me slightly, but it doesn't fully stop the chain reaction I can feel building.

Once I got home, I gave Taylor and Mrs. Jones the evening off. Even the teeming rain couldn't dampen my spirits. I felt better knowing that Anastasia didn't loathe me after everything that's happened in the recent weeks. I have to admit I also enjoy feeling like her father has taken to me somewhat after our horrendous start immediately after her car accident.

Once Taylor and Gail are gone for the evening, I lock down the private elevator, knowing that Taylor would need the key to access the penthouse when they returned home. I served myself a glass of wine and head up to the playroom. The scent of orange and leather greet me as I open the door. They feel like old friends, yet after the past few weeks, I know better.

I now have significant doubt that my lifestyle was appropriate. Anastasia made me question everything I've known about sexual relationships since I was fifteen. I'd been considered a genius at math since high school, yet a simple one-plus-one equals two doesn't quite add up in my personal life. I mean my birth mother was a prostitute. She was paid for her sexual services with cash, which in turn paid for her drugs and our slum of an apartment. What's so different about me hiring a submissive, renting them an apartment, buying them clothes and a car? I'm no better than my mother's pimp. The main difference is I'm not just the pimp; I'm the customer too. No matter how hard I try, this knowledge feeds the self-loathing I've struggled to suppress for two and a half decades.

How did everything get so convoluted? How did I get so twisted? Right and wrong are generally so cut and dry, yet in terms of my BDSM lifestyle the lines were blurred since day one. I can see it now, but until recently, I didn't even know any better. Master of the business world – not quite but maybe one day, yet my personal life has clearly been a major cluster fuck.

I caused other people physical pain, all for my own enjoyment and to get myself off. After what my pimp did to me, the agonizing suffering I experienced as a toddler, and I follow his lead. What the fuck is wrong with me? My anger is building quickly, from a slow simmer to a raging boil. I want nothing more than to destroy this room.

I head to the security office in search of something to pulverize the room. The vibration of my cell phone disrupts my frantic search. I can't help but smile when I see the message is from Anastasia.

_**Ana:**__ Zoolander, TBS TV 5 mins, watch party! I demand my Blue Steele! … signed - Ana the bossy, gimpy bitch_

_**Christian: **__Gimpy?_

_**Ana:**__ Dad & the boys went into town for beers and some military companionship. Dad left the stash of peanut brittle high up in the kitchen. Ana & altitude don't go well together, so after a wonderful, yet minor, flop, I opted for half a pain pill and a beer. GO ME! Zoolander now Grey! NOW! Don't forget to grab yourself a beer and your laptop first!_

After grabbing a beer, I quickly head to the TV room. Once I have the movie on, I send her a text of the picture of my television screen and wait.

_**Christian: **__Okay?_

_**Ana:**__Turn Skype on your laptop and dial me in. Then set the laptop nearby so I can see you and absorb your reaction to one of my all-time favorite, stupid movies._

_**Christian**__: Really?_

_**Ana:**__ Consider it your first lesson in LARPing like a real person – movie night with a friend. I've been abandoned between a bar and Barbados, and you're not doing anything, so why not?_

The entire situation was odd, but I complied. I was happy to see she took the computer I'd given her to Montesano. Once we both had computers set up and I saw her, I couldn't help but smile. Her color was returning, she had no make up on, and was sitting on a couch with a beer in one hand and rested her injured arm on a medium-sized open tin of popcorn.

"How are you feeling?" I asked apprehensively.

"Wait for it! Wait for it!" she laughed. A moment later, the security phone rang. Thankfully we had extensions throughout the apartment for that line. I reached over to the phone on the side table and answered.

"Grey"

"Mr. Grey, you have a package from a Miss Steele at the reception desk. Would you like me to have one of the staff bring it up?"

"Yes please. I'll unlock the elevator," I reply before hanging up. I glance at the laptop screen and Anastasia is grinning at me.

"Pause and rewind the movie to the beginning," she orders. "I'll do the same."

"Is the package really from you?"

She laughs. "Well, I can't sit here eating snacks without sharing. If we were in the same room, I'd share with my friends if they were watching with me, which technically you are. Now scoot and get the package, so we can get movie night with friend going."

When I return to the TV room, all I can see on the laptop screen are Anastasia's fingers tapping irritably. I can't help but laugh.

"I was going for impatient, not funny," she giggles in reply. When her face is back on the screen, I can see she has an identical box next to her. She takes a drink of her beer – liquid courage perhaps? "Now Mr. Grey, before you open your box you must hereby swear to follow the rules set forth by me – the queen bookworm, empress of all Zoolander surveys, and most of all, the bitch with the megaphone?"

"Megaphone?" I ask with a smirk.

Sure enough, she pulls out a megaphone and into it yells: "Yes Megaphone!" before bursting out laughing. I thought my laptop speakers were going to shatter.

"So Grey, do you agree or do we end our video conference?"

"You, Miss Steele are in charge tonight."

"GO ME!" she yells throwing her arms up into the air, then swearing in pain.

"Are you okay?" I swear that girl has no notion of recovering quietly and with caution.

She's blushing furiously. "I forgot about my injured arm. It hasn't really hurt in a while, so it slipped my mind. I'll be right back, I think I'm going to take that other pain pill."

It took her a minute to grab the pill and return. I cringed when she took it with a sip of beer. "Put down the beer Anastasia. You shouldn't drink if you are on pain medication."

I laughed when she pouted, jutting out her bottom lip in an exaggerated manner. "Oh-kay," she sighed. I watched as she got to her feet, left my view, then returned with a bottle of water. "Better?"

"Much. How many beers did you drink before texting me?"

"Half of the one you saw. It was brewed by one of my dad's friends, so whenever I come home I have one. There's one in your box, but you can't have it yet."

"When can I have it?"

"Soon, but first, let's take the tops off our boxes and let's see what your first item is Mr. Grey!" she is almost cheering.

I pull out a black and white bandana, as does she. I watch as she barely manages to get it round her head and pull some of her hair up so it sticks out the top. "Your turn Grey."

"Really?" I ask as I gaze at the bandana in disdain.

"Yes really. Weren't you ever young? I mean Kate, Jose and I had regular movie nights when the weather was bad while we were in college. I just thought, you might not have done any of that normal stuff, since you are so private," she replied almost sadly. "I want you to have fun. You're only twenty-seven, right? Besides, you've got the perfect hair to pull this off, though it's a bit long."

I nod, then reluctantly put the headband on and pull my hair up. I feel stupid, yet she is smiling broadly.

"Your snacks for the night are in the Tupperware container in the box," she informs me as she pulls a Tupperware container from her box.

All I know is I'm praying it's not something sweet. After eating half of the cake she'd sent, I can't handle any more sugar. When I remove the container's lid, I'm surprised to find three warm meat-filled empanadas, a smaller container of warm mac and cheese, and a rolled up piece of paper.

"How did you do this? You're hours away," I asked in disbelief.

"I annoyed your security team to no end. When I sent the cake, I sent a separate package to Taylor after he and Gail agreed to help me pull this off. It's still warm because Gail fried the empanadas and heated up the mac and cheese before they left for the evening," she replies blushing. "When I was in the hospital, I caught Gail checking out Taylor's butt and I thought she was cheating on her husband since she was introduced to me as Mrs. Jones. If we're being honest here, I'm a closet butt checker myself, though I'm a look but don't touch girl, so yeah, I checked out the butts of every one of your security team. Are you sure you're not gay? You hire some nice butts Mr. Grey." She giggles uncontrollably.

I think I'm going to enjoy my remote evening with Miss Steele while she's on pain medication. I'd heard she's hilariously uninhibited during these times. "Definitely not gay. Did you check out mine?"

She turns cherry red before burying her face in her good hand. "Guilty as charged."

"So, since you've checked out my security team and me, who has the best butt?"

"Oh crap," she giggles so hard she falls sideways onto the couch. "Oh crap!"

"Well Miss Steele, I'm waiting."

When she finally stops laughing, she replies, "Sawyer, as he's the only man I've seen in undershorts. I don't know who was more mortified, him or me, as I inadvertently walked into the bathroom after he showered. Thankfully, he already had on his underwear. He's a boxer-brief type of guy. The site made me want to perform a scientific study of personality vs. underwear style. So Grey - boxer, brief, or hybrid? Wait! Before you answer, I'm going to text Taylor, Ryan, and Reynolds to ask them too. I'm curious to see if all security wears boxer-briefs," she giggles as I watch her type the text. With an exaggerated push of a button, she exclaims, "Text sent!" before giggling again. "Well Grey?"

I can't help but smile at her as I reply, "Boxer-brief."

I can see the flush returning to her cheeks. "I asked those I texted to prove it, so Mr. Grey, prove it!" She shows me the text she sent my security team and she did, in fact, ask them to prove it. I can only imagine what they'll think. They'd better not send her any racy photos.

"You want me to drop my pants while we Skype and show you my underwear?" I ask incredulously as she uses her good hand to cover a yawn.

She quickly nods with a mischievous smirk on her face, before yawning again. In the time it takes me to reluctantly stand and drop my pants, I look back at the laptop and she's sitting there fast asleep. Sawyer had said the pain medication leaves her a bit uninhibited before knocking her out. I have to admit, it's highly amusing.

As I eat my first empanada and some mac and cheese, I unroll the small scroll of paper from the package. It's a recipe for an Orange Mocha Frappuccino. What the fuck is an Orange Mocha Frappuccino? Handwritten at the bottom is the following:

_**Pull the blender out of your frig, add 6 ice cubes, blend and enjoy! **_

_**They make everything better!**_

I don't get it, but I'll follow her instructions. Once I'm in the kitchen and have the blender going, I realized how much planning went into this evening. I'm flattered an oddly, I feel cherished. I don't recall ever feeling that way, or maybe, I don't remember ever allowing anyone to make me feel that way. I'm incredibly relaxed, which even after hours in the playroom I never really felt like this.

With my drink in hand, I head back to the TV room and start the movie. It's a ridiculous movie, but it makes me laugh. It doesn't take long before I understand the Orange Mocha Frappuccino reference. I've never been a big fan of television or movies, but I'm enjoying myself; especially being able to gaze at her asleep on the nearby screen.

By the time the movie is done, I've spent the better part of it laughing and glancing at the laptop. She slept through the entire thing looking peaceful. The only thing that would have made it better is her being here, even if she were asleep on the couch next to me.

A quick click of the remote and the television is off. I start picking up around me when I hear Ana scream through the computer. When I turn toward the laptop I see a large beast on top of her.

"Rungo no!" she yells trying to push the massive dog off her. She swears before reaching for an empanada from her box, and makes sure the dog sees it. She then orders him to sit. He does so obediently next to her on the couch. I get a good look at the beast and it's the largest dog I've even seen. Sitting side-by-side with Anastasia, the dog must weight nearly two hundred pounds.

"What the hell is that?" I can't help but ask as she rubs her ribs. "Did it hurt you?"

"This," she states flatly as she points toward the dog, "is Rungo. He's a six-year old English Mastiff and our pride and joy."

"He needs obedience training," I can't help but keep the anger out of my voice. "You're injured and he could have made it worse."

She takes the leash that's in her lap and shakes it at the camera. "He brought me his leash, so he wants to go out. The problem is he smelled food and he's a growing boy." I watched in shock as the dog laid down on it's back, resting its head on her lap and she rubbed his belly. "I'm sure he'll be more mindful in the future. I do appreciate your continuing concern for my wellbeing."

As she clips the leash onto the beasts collar, she gets to her feet. "You're not going to walk that thing in your condition, are you? It will probably drag you down the street."

She giggled. It's a sound that's sexy, yet in this instance annoying. "He's an English Mastiff, not a Saint Bernard. He is part of a breed of gentle giants. In Rungo's case, he's an oversized couch dog. Give me ten minutes, and I'll be back."

Begrudgingly, I allow her to walk the damn dog._ Who are you kidding Grey, she would have walked the beast regardless._ My brain is on autopilot – that girl has no consideration for her own health and wellbeing. She's recovering from a major car accident, a shooting, she still has pins in her arm, a broken collarbone, a concussion, and more bruising than I've ever seen on a human body – Yet she walks the fucking beast of a dog with a smile on her face and mischief in those blue eyes.

When she finally returns, the beast takes up half the couch and Anastasia happily sits next to him while she rubs his head.

"I'm glad to see you are back in one piece."

She smiles, grabs her phone and clicks a few buttons. "When Ray brought me back from Texas, we got Rungo. I was very withdrawn and had always wanted a puppy, so Ray thought he'd help bring me out of my shell. Check the email on your phone." She waits a minute as I do as she asked and start the sideshow she emailed.

The first picture is of a teenage Anastasia holding the puppy that would grow up to be the beast. I'll admit, the puppy is adorable, yet when I look at Anastasia, I can see the impact of Texas on her. She has a hint of a fading black eye, her shoulders are hunched in defeat, she's holding the puppy for dear life, and she just appears lost. There's no light in her eyes. None of her normal, shy, yet vibrant self.

"Ray brought Rungo home about two weeks after I returned from Texas. If it wasn't for this big ball of muscle, I probably wouldn't have set foot outside the house," she explained sadly. "It was the first dent through my self-imposed withdrawal. He brought me a book on the breed, and set up a chart of what care Rungo needed and when. Having Rungo gave me purpose at a time when I was paralyzed, lost and wallowing. I vowed to never feel that way again. Unfortunately, I was wrong," she whispers in the end. When she wipes a few stray tears from her eyes, my heart feels like it's splitting in two.

"I can understand those feelings. Given everything that's happened to you in the past month, it's only natural to feel that way to some degree, isn't it?" I ask uncertainly.

"Probably," she sighs. "It's just after four years away at college, I felt like I was starting to figure out who I not only wanted to become, but was meant to be. In many ways, I felt like I had truly found my footing for the climb out of the abyss that was Texas, yet since everything lately, I feel like I'm sliding downward again."

"I completely understand," I barely manage to choke out. "It's as if you are looking through the wrong end of the telescope all of the sudden and what you want or need seems unreachable. You either keep trying to reach your goal or you just turn that part of yourself off completely. As a wretched example of the latter, I discourage you from taking that path. At best it leaves you isolated, numb, and dead inside; at worst, you just don't feel anything. Right and wrong become concepts that apply to business, but your personal life is utterly fucked up because that basic, commonsense right and wrong barrier slowly loses it's meaning."

I rub my eyes roughly. I can't bring myself to look at the laptop. I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. "You were right about me. I'm a damaged four-year old in a twenty-eight year old body. There are times when I feel he's not alone in there either. It's a four-year old, a businessman, and a dominant, all struggling for control; yet they feed off the same emotional umbilical cord so it's difficult to see where one starts and the other ends."

Raw – it's the only word to describe how I'm feeling right now. I've never been able to verbalize what I'm feeling because I couldn't understand it myself. Flynn was right that day in the hospital; it helps looking at your life through an impartial window.

"Beneath all of the issues, you're a good man Mr. Grey," she whispers. "If I know in my heart and soul that you can overcome this, then I know I can get passed Texas and the last month. We can do this and do it for ourselves. Since I'm technically still on my father's health insurance, I'm going to keep visiting Dr. Flynn when I return to Seattle late next week. I need to do this for my future. Who knows, maybe we'll meet in passing in the waiting room some time and we can have a walk off. Did you finish the movie?"

Try as I might, I can't help but smile. "Just don't go monk on me."

"Then behave Mr. Grey, behave and that doesn't mean poorly," she smirks.

This beautiful, beguiling woman is going to be the death of me. "When do you get the pins removed from your arm?"

"On the eighteenth. Kate should be back from Barbados then to accompany me; otherwise Luke said he'd take me since he'll still be off from work. My dad's business got a really huge order, so he's been back at work part-time since I've been home. Next week he's back full-time."

"I could take you," I offer.

"I think Kate will be back by then, so no worries. Thank you for the offer though."

"What else have you been up to other than recuperating?"

The conflict within her appears on her face for a few seconds, then disappears. "I guess you can say I'm working on my dream. All through my senior year of high school and college, I obsessed over a dream. When I return to Seattle, I'm going to find myself a basic job, preferably in the evening at a book or hardware store, and during the day attempt to build the dream I played pong with in my head for nearly six years, work on myself, and do some volunteer work."

She actually looks excited and in some ways, ready to take on the world. "If you want help just ask."

Her gentle smile is enough to melt my hardened soul. "I appreciate the offer, but I feel like building whatever this becomes in terms of the new me, well it's something I want… no need to do on my own. Whether I succeed or fail is irrelevant. What matters is I do it on my own terms and follow it wherever it goes. It's about the journey."

"Do you still want to work in publishing?" I can't help but ask.

She nods. "I'd applied at a few publishing houses in Seattle, Chicago, San Francisco, and New York for an entry level position before the accident. If one of them comes up now, I'm not certain I'd take it straight away. In my head, I have more important avenues to explore. For the first time ever, I honestly feel like I have my priorities straight."

"According to my father's associate, the offer still stands at SIP."

"Mr. Grey, no disrespect intended, but I want to make my own way and succeed with my own ideas and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my accomplishments are my own once I figure myself out. One of the good things to come out of this mess is I've found time to really consider what I want in my life over the next few years. It's pretty simple – therapy to get passed the stuff in my past, a career, and maybe even write a novel. Once I get passed my issues, then I'll risk venturing into the relationship world again. Right now, I just don't trust my choices."

"I can respect that," is all I can think about replying. I feel this overwhelming need to take care of her and protect her, yet deep down, I know she needs to find her own way. Anastasia is this beautiful, innocent spirit that people have attempted to repeatedly crush, yet in some ways, it appears she comes out with renewed feistiness. The glimpses of who she will become are breathtakingly spectacular and unless I get my shit together, I don't stand a chance with her or anyone else for that matter. I need to straighten my life out for myself, and then see where this new road takes me.

"Now Derek," she laughs doing her best Katinka accent. "Show me your blue steel and magnum."

I turn away from the laptop, then quickly return my gaze, suck in my cheeks and say, "blue steel for you my dear, but before you can see magnum, I need to tame the beast."

"Nice double entendre there Grey, nice," Anastasia laughs.


	14. Chapter 14: Going Viral

**Chapter 14 – Going Viral**

Just over two weeks had passed since my first LARPing experience, as Anastasia called it. Since then we'd exchanged a few text messages, but beyond that radio silence. Kate and Elliot were back and both of them had accompanied her to have the pins removed from her arm last week. From what I understand she was recovering nicely. More than anything, I wanted to see her.

I paced around my home office wondering how I could make that happen without scaring her away. She'd open the door for communication, but until now I allowed her to set the tone. Hell, I almost wish Sawyer were here to provide some advice, but it would be at least another four weeks before he returned to work, perhaps more. I know now that Anastasia is living in Seattle, he sees her less as he's back at his apartment, going to regular physical therapy appointments and starting to work out again.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in."

Taylor enters, as always dressed in his suit and tie even though we are in for the night.

"This envelope was delivered to the front desk for you Mr. Grey," he states apprehensively.

"Do we know who left it?"

"Miss Steele sir."

I take the envelope from his hand and open it. Inside it contains a brief note and a cashier's check made out to me in the sum of fifty-thousand dollars. The note reads:

**_Dear Mr. Grey,_**

**_Contained herein is a cashier's check equal to the sum you transferred into my bank account _**

**_without my consent. As you are well aware, I insisted you remove said funds from _**

**_my bank account. Since you have failed to perform said task, I have taken the liberty _**

**_of remitting said funds to you. (Hmmm, I really like the word 'said' today)_**

**_I hope you understand why I am unable to accept said remittance, but if you feel _**

**_you are unable to accept these funds, please note there are many wonderful charities _**

**_in the Seattle area, which are able to do more with them than I can. For example:_**

**_- Northwest Food Bank_**

**_- Cancer Lifeline_**

**_- Coping Together (Near & dear to both our hearts)_**

**_- Adventures in Literacy_**

**_Hope all is well._**

**_Your friend and fellow secret-keeper,_**

**_Anastasia Steele_**

**_~feeling like she needs to get the stick out of her backside after writing this snooty letter_**

As much as I try, I can't help but smile. I pass the note to Taylor, who smirks. "She's something else Mr. Grey," Taylor laughs. "Sawyer said while she was home in Montesano, she spent a few days volunteering at a senior center."

"Nothing that confounding woman does will ever surprise me," I reply.

"Sir, I know this is short notice, but would it be possible to take a few hours off this evening?"

"Is everything okay Taylor?"

"Miss Steele is insisting on confronting one of her demons and invited Sawyer and I to accompany Ray, your parents, and Dr. Flynn to the Brew House this evening," he replies apprehensively. "According to Miss Steele, and I quote, _I'll die without their croutons, so I'd better get my sorry ass back in there and confront my inner beast. _She wants to recreate the evening to a certain degree and give it a different outcome – or as she puts it, make a new memory._"_

"Does Sawyer believe she's emotionally ready to handle that?" I can't help but ask. What if returning damages her further emotionally?

Taylor explains his belief that both Sawyer and Anastasia need to do this together. They bonded at the hospital originally, and then shared a life-altering experience. He believed it would be rough on all involved that night, but a necessary action on their part.

"Take all the time you need tonight Taylor. Please make certain both Anastasia and Sawyer don't over do it this evening."

He nods before leaving.

* * *

It's almost midnight and Taylor hasn't returned from the Brew House. I can only hope things went well. I decide no wait no further and head to bed, as I knew tomorrow was an early morning – seven a.m. appointment with Flynn, followed by a ten a.m. flight to Chicago to negotiate a contract on my latest acquisition. I knew Flynn wouldn't tell me anything about his sessions with Anastasia, though I ask every time. His textbook reply is: 'Miss Steele told me to tell you she is doing better.' _Fucking Flynn!_

Once I'm dressed, I head to the kitchen and take my place at the breakfast bar. As usual, Gail has my omelet and coffee waiting. "Good morning Gail."

"Good morning Mr. Grey," she replies with a smile.

"What time did Taylor get back last night?" I can't help but ask as I read a contract on my iPad.

"Unfortunately, I didn't hear him return, but other than being tired, he appeared quite happy this morning."

A few minutes later, Taylor joins me at the breakfast bar and Gail hands him a cup of coffee. "All of our luggage is in the Audi for our flight this morning Mr. Grey."

I nod. "How were Anastasia and Sawyer last night? Did everything go as planned?" I can see a smirk on Taylor's face. I know from five years of experience with him, when he can't maintain his practiced, impassive look there is usually a good story associated with it.

"I would say it went better than expected during the first hour or two," he chuckled, "but the one thing I've learned from Miss Steele over the past month or so is nothing she does is ordinary."

"For example?" I ask watching him closely.

"Well, when it came time for Miss Steele to venture into the ladies room where the shooting took place, Sawyer stood by the door and Miss Steele insisted on going in alone. Luke and Dr. Flynn wanted to accompany her, but she flatly refused them. She was in there for ten minutes when word leaked to the media that not only that both she and Sawyer were there, but also why they were there. One of the local television news crews appeared with video cameras at the ready. Sawyer just about had a stroke when the female reporter pushed her way into the ladies room."

"How did they get past Sawyer?"

"Have you seen Luke lately? He still looks like hell. We're going to be lucky to get him back for another six to eight weeks according to Dr. Trevelyan."

I'm glaring at Taylor now, yet he's still smirking. "Are you going to tell me what happened Taylor? I snap at him.

"Would you both like to see? A picture, or video in this case, is worth a thousand words." Taylor grins broadly now as he takes my iPad and goes to YouTube. With a click of a video on the front page, he turns the screen toward Gail and I.

_This is Jenna Garrity reporting from Seattle's own Brew House, where shooting victims, Anastasia Steele and Luke Sawyer returned to the scene of the violent crime that took place exactly four weeks ago today. We've arrived just after Anastasia Steele re-entered the ladies room where the shooting took place for the first time. According to our sources, Miss Steele has been in there for roughly ten minutes. Luke Sawyer, who nearly died from multiple gunshot wounds that night, was ever present at the door, peaking in occasionally._

We watch as Luke peaks in the ladies room once again and chuckles. We even hear him say, "Oh Ana! You are really being naughty tonight."

_A male member of the news crew pulls Luke away from the ladies room and we see him stumble and hear a pronounced crash, before the reporter and her camera crew burst into the ladies room. They find Anastasia sitting on the floor, surrounded by quarters and a pair of scissors, as she stares at her original artwork on the wall. The grin plastered on her face is priceless._

"Is that what I think they are?" I ask Gail. I'll admit it – Ana's original.

"Yes Mr. Grey, those are feminine hygiene products," she replies blushing.

We laugh loudly as the camera focuses on the wall where Ana spelled out:

_**The Brew House**_

_**Great Food**_

_**Great Beer**_

_**Great People**_

_**Don't allow the actions of one poor soul**_

_**to destroy a local business!**_

_**SAVE THE BREW HOUSE!**_

_**Signed: Ana S. & Luke S.**_

"_Miss Steele, how are you feeling?" the reporter asks her._

"_Good thanks," she replies as Luke, Ray, and Taylor enter the restroom._

"_And Mr. Sawyer, how are you feeling?" she asks him._

"_I'd say no comment, but if you are live on the air, I hope you enjoy the lawsuit I'm going to file against your company and your lackey assaulting me out there," he replies with a smirk. "Clearly, I've felt better."_

_The reporter rolls her eyes at him before turning her attention to Anastasia, who merely glances up at her serenely. "So Miss Steele, any comments on your accident, the shooting, or your relationship with Christian Grey and his security team?"_

_She smirks before replying, "Accident – ouch! Shooting – ouch again! Christian Grey – the smoking hot ginger man was an interesting interview, but that's about it. I haven't seen him since the shooting and even then, only because Luke is a member of his security team. I don't anticipate seeing him again in the near or distant future. But Ladies – this hottie is single, straight, and pictures don't do him justice." She giggles hysterically. "Sorry gay men of Seattle, but that should end the gay rumors. Enter the mourning period now."_

"_How do you know he's not gay?" the reporter asked excitedly._

_She laughs again. "We're live on the air, right?" _

_The reporter nods. "Based on my limited exposure to Mr. Grey, he has a thing for gorgeous blondes, preferably those who don't dress like whores. Case in point, where did you get that awful shirt? I mean really? They allow you to go on the air like that? All that's missing is the price tag." She giggles, as does everyone around her._

_The reporter is clearly speechless as Ana gets to her feet with Ray's assistance and approaches the woman. "Please do not allow one incident destroy this wonderful local business that happened to be the restaurant where my father purchased my dinner nightly while I was recovering from my car accident. If we didn't enjoy the food so much, then this establishment wouldn't have been a commercial victim of a senseless crime. Oh and Ms. Garrity, perhaps you should check facts before you print or go on air and spread unsubstantiated rumors and innuendo about people. I'm sure both my family and Mr. Grey's family didn't appreciate your shoddy, hurtful, and made up stories. Clearly, you are unaware of how a professional journalist is supposed to behave."_

_The video ends when the scene is cut and returned to the local newsroom and the anchor announces they are experiencing technical difficulties._

"Holy shit," I exclaim with a grin. "She was high as a kite, wasn't she?"

"Yup," Taylor replies. "One pain pill and two shots of her father's beer was all it took was for our Miss Steele to become a Youtube viral video, save a restaurant, and take down a reporter."

"Plus I'm out of the closet," I smirk.

"According to the news station, the reporter was placed on administrative leave early this morning and they've issued apologies to the Grey, Sawyer, and Steele families. Luke texted me and said they offered him a six figure settlement this morning for the assault captured on film," Taylor laughed. "After the news crew left, the Brew House owners locked the doors and we partied until about two in the morning. Elliot picked up your parents at about one a.m., Dr. Flynn dropped Ana, Sawyer, and Ray off at Sawyer's house somewhere around two thirty, and I walked back here right after that. All in all, it was a great night."

"Ana and Luke probably saved that business," Gail commented happily.

"Saved it? I'd give it two years and they'll be franchises in major cities. I might have to buy in before it grows."

Our conversation is interrupted when Taylor receives a text and shows it to us:

_**Sawyer: **__ Viral video, hounded by media, new contact numbers for us are in your email until this blows over. GMA and Today Show are annoying as all fuck. They've called both my phone and Ana's dozens of times overnight. Assholes! Media is already in Montesano, by Ana's apartment, and my apartment. Ray headed home, but Ana and I heading to the Rodriguez hunting cabin in Astoria until this blows over._

* * *

A week has passed and the GEH Public Relations Department has fielded requests for interviews from me by every major news outlet in the country, all due to the viral video. While it's amusing, it's also frustrating because it's consuming too many man-hours for my team.

"Hey Bro!" Elliot barges into my office with Taylor right behind him.

"What is it Elliot? I really don't have the time or patience for games today," I snap.

He helps himself to a beer from the mini-frig in my office and a bag of nuts from the cabinet before plopping himself unceremoniously into a chair before the video monitor. With a click of the remote, the television turns on and he begins machine-gunning it through the channels before stopping at the locally owned Kavanagh Media station, which is currently playing advertisements.

"I think you'll quite enjoy the interview Kate is doing today," he retorts.

"_Welcome back to the Kavanagh Media national network of stations, where we will bring you and exclusive interview with unwitting Internet sensations, Anastasia Steele and Luke Sawyer. This is Kate Kavanagh reporting and I will admit, interviewing Ana, my college roommate of four years is going to be fun."_

Anastasia and Sawyer both appear nervous as they sit side-by-side with Kate. Even I have to admit, their strategy seems like a good one.

"_So Ana, we've known each other for a long time now, how did it feel interviewing the enigma that is Christian Grey for the college paper? What were your first impressions?"_

"_Well, after I literally fell into his office and he helped me up, I felt he was a bit arrogant, but as the interview went on, it became abundantly clear there was more to the man. When he spoke about hunger relief and his grants at WSU, you could see the passion in his eyes, yet he didn't want to take credit for his wonderful actions," Ana replied. "It didn't take long to see that the big bad businessman, Christian Grey, had a heart of gold underneath the physically perfect, yet foreboding exterior."_

"_Mr. Sawyer, any comments on your boss?" Kate asked._

"_He's a good man," Luke commented._

"_You're taciturn," Kate laughed. "You remind me of a younger, hotter version of Ana's dad."_

"_Not after a few beers he's not," Ana replied with a smirk._

"_What was going through your mind Ana during the car chase that led to your accident?" Kate queried._

_Ana rolled her eyes at Kate and replied, "As I recall 'I'm going to die' was a never ending loop in my head. Since we are live, on the air, I'm leaving out the F-word that was in the middle of that repeating phrase."_

"_Do you remember what you said when the rescue team found you at the river's edge?"_

"_I just remember being surrounded by hunky angels with badges," she replied blushing._

"_Oh Ana, you're never going to live this down. Let's play the tape," Kate laughed. _

_A moment later, we heard Ana's disoriented voice from the police recording, "Holy heck I died and I'm the only virgin in man-candy heaven"_

"_Thanks Kate," Ana said blushing profusely. "Remember my friend, revenge is a dish best served cold. I know where you live roomie."_

"_What's your relationship with the hunk here?" Kate asked pointing at Luke._

"_He's an old friend of my father's who happens to work for Mr. Grey," she replied._

"_No romantic feelings?" Kate asked._

_Ana and Luke looked at each other the broke out laughing. "He's sixteen years older than me. I might have developed some issues after the past month, but definitely not daddy issues. Ladies, this handsome man is six foot six and single."_

"_Ana!" Luke snaps at her. "I can't keep changing my number every time you do this." Ana merely laughs at him._

"_So Luke, you guarded Ana after the accident. Was it as a favor to her father or Mr. Grey's orders?" Kate pushed._

"_Honestly, it was a bit of both. Since the attack on Ana happened immediately after she came to Seattle and did a photoshoot for the article on Mr. Grey, we, the members of his security team felt it prudent to keep an eye on her. Given his status, he receives threats, which is why he has a security team. When I realized the woman in the accident was Ray's daughter I couldn't leave her without security. We're like family. Until the SPD found out who was responsible for this targeted attack, we couldn't leave her unprotected. Mr. Grey agreed."_

"_So Ana, I hear you aced your finals just over a week after your accident," Kate congratulated her. "That night you, Luke, your dad, and another member of Mr. Grey's security team ventured out to celebrate the end of your university career at the Brew House, correct?"_

"_Yes, and as you know, all hell broke loose," Ana sighed. "All laughing matters aside, I can sit here and recount what happened that night, but the reality is, Luke and I weren't the only victims. Our respective families suffered, but let's not forget the Jamesons, who based on my conversations with them over the past few weeks are struggling. Don't judge them because their daughter suffered from a mental illness. While society today is more understanding of those who's lives are made difficult due to mental illness, we still have a long way to go overall in making certain those who need treatment receive it without financial barriers. The Jamesons shouldn't be looked upon with disdain, fear, and hatred. Maggie Jameson needed help and wasn't able to receive it. I think I speak for both Luke and our families when I say, more needs to be done to help people like Maggie. As a society, we need to have more compassion."_

"_Agreed," Luke added. "I was fortunate enough to be offered a settlement and I've accepted it from the local news station who filmed the viral video." He pulls out a check from his pocket and shows it to the camera. "This check will be donated to the Youth Mental Health Counseling Service for the Greater Seattle Area. We have to help those, who can't help themselves."_

"_Kavanagh Media would like to announce a matching two-hundred and fifty thousand dollar donation to the Youth Mental Health Counseling Service for Greater Seattle," Kate announces._

"_So Ana," she continues, "Luke and I have had the privilege of seeing you first hand after your accident and the shooting. You're what - Five-three, maybe ninety-five pounds dripping wet. Tell us, how did your post op medications affect you?"_

_Luke laughed and Ana smacked him on the arm. "Well Kate, I guess you can say my inhibitions lower and my artistic ability increases."_

"_That's an understatement," Luke laughs._

"_Dammit Luke, I know your secrets too," Ana snaps at him. "Okay, so the truth is the post op pain medications took me from Clark Kent to the snarky, free-spirited SuperAna."_

"_Care to provide any examples Luke of how our demure little bookworm here transformed?" Kate asked with a smirk._

"_Our little Ana here suffered from major brain to mouth filter issues, but revealing them would be embarrassing to some," he replied blushing._

"_You mean like wanting to have you replace David Beckham's picture in Times Square standing there in your skivvies?" Kate asked as she checked him out._

"_Kate!" Ana snapped and Luke blushed profusely._

"_Or her blabbering on and on about doing a calendar of Mr. Grey's security because they all had rather attractive backsides," Kate continued. "Or the ramblings when she was on a morphine pump after the accident when she wondered if South Park was right about gingers having no souls and how it affected Mr. Grey and 'his sweet ass'. And let's not forget her rant about breast implants."_

"_Remember Kate, I roomed with you for four years at college and we still share an apartment," Ana threatened barely able to contain her laughter._

"_So explain to the viewers, what made you go back to the Brew House last week?"_

_Luke and Ana glanced at each other, before Ana replied, "We could either live with the emotional demon the night of the shooting created, or slay it. We opted for the latter, so we gathered those that were with us that night, a therapist, and one of the doctors from the hospital who treated me, along with her husband to return the same night of the week, same basic time we went the day of the shooting."_

"_We sat at the same table," Luke continued softly as he held Ana's hand, "ate the same food, and tried to create a new memory. We had no idea when Ana went into the bathroom that rather than burst out crying, she's redecorate it with feminine hygiene products. Honestly, I expected her to break down, but none of us realized before she went she took a pain pill as she's still having issues with headaches and her arm. We didn't think twice when she had two shots of her father's beer sampler and the other side of Ana came out – her artistic, snarky side._

"_Over dinner," Luke continued, "we'd all discussed the news coverage and speculation surrounding the accident, Mr. Grey, and all the other verbal diarrhea people wrote to sell papers and increase viewership. It really was infuriating, but if you'd told me that our quiet, little Ana would send a message with hygiene products and trash a reporter live on the air, well, I would have bet my life savings against it."_

"_You would have lost, big time," Kate replied. "Roll the viral video!"_

We watched the video play once again. It was just as amusing the second, third and tenth time for all of us.

"_So Steele, what was going through that twisted brain of yours when you told off the reporter?"_

_Ana sighed before becoming bitter and angry, "I'd seen and read a bunch of her work covering the accident and then the shooting. There is nothing worse than not having a voice when you hear someone fabricating stories without a basis in fact about people you care about or people you know. I mean, people can dig all they want about me, there's nothing there to be found, so there wasn't much for them to invent other than a relationship with Mr. Grey._

"_I found the treatment of Mr. Grey by the media to be absolutely abhorrent," she continued as she rubbed the back of her head. "He's a private guy, who happens to have worked hard and became filthy rich. That doesn't give the media the right to treat him as they did. I mean, calling my accident Grey's Chappaquiddick? Really? What the hell was that? Accusing him of misleading the police? I mean, come on – it's preposterous. The Bookworm and the Billionaire? Okay, I'll admit, that one, to me, was hilarious. I mean, what the hell would someone like Mr. Grey see in someone like me. I mean, I'd say we run in different social circles, but heck, I don't even run in a social circle. He flies a state of the art helicopter, and me, well, I drive a forty year old Beetle named Wanda. The media, with few exceptions, had no respect for the truth and Ms. Garrity was one of the worst offenders with her stories about kink and Chappaquiddick. So much for journalistic integrity."_

_Ana stopped, lowered her head and once again, rubbed the back of her head for a few seconds. Luke immediately knelt before her and asked if she was okay. _

_She nodded and looked at Kate, who also made sure she was feeling up to continuing._

"_Two major concussions and one skull fracture in a month will leave you with headaches," Ana sighed in reply. "So now, imagine me at the restaurant last week having taken a pain pill, two shots of beer, and being royally pissed off at the media based on our dinner time conversations. I might be little, but you know me Kate, I hate liars, so when the opportunity presented itself with Ms. Garrity live on the air, I was already unfiltered and snarky, and I seized the moment. Did I intend it to go viral? No. All I knew was that woman and her fabrications caused a great deal of emotional pain to some really good people, and I just let the words just flow."_

"_Way to call the media out on their methods Steele," Kate replied laughing. "I'd say I speak for most journalists when I say, I hope we don't piss you off."_

_Ana laughed and rubbed her head again. _

"_So Ana," Kate teased her friend. "What's next for you – world diplomacy?"_

"_First and foremost, this is my first and absolutely last interview ever, so the media need to stop calling me. The last thing I want is attention of any type. If they don't leave me alone, who knows, maybe a restraining order will work," Ana replied quietly. "Right now, I'm going to get myself the help I need in order to process the events of the past month, find a job, read a few books, and annoy the hell out of my roommate – that pain in the butt reporter for Kavanagh Media."_

"_And you Luke?"_

"_Finish recovering, visit my family in Texas, and then head back to work."_

"_Ana and Luke, I want to thank you on behalf of Kavanagh Media for giving us this exclusive interview. It's refreshing to see people stand up for truth and ethics in media."_

"Ana's awesome," Elliot laughed. "I swear, the only thing that would have made it better is if she'd been on pain meds during the interview with Kate."

Elliot and Taylor's phone vibrate at the same time. For Elliot it's Kate, and for Taylor it's Sawyer, but the message is the same; they are taking Anastasia to be checked out by my mother due to her headaches.


	15. Chapter 15: Paralysis Billionarus!

**GUEST REVIEWS THAT ARE DISRESPECTFUL WILL BE DELETED!**

**IF YOU DON'T LIKE MY TAKE ON THE CHARACTERS – STOP READING!**

**NEGATIVE REVIEWS BY PEOPLE LOGGED IN WILL BE ANSWERED VIA PRIVATE MESSAGE, LIKE I HAVE IN THE PAST. I LIKE TO OPEN A DIALOG BUT CAN'T ON NEGATIVE, DISRESPECTFUL GUEST REVIEWS!**

**_Illegitimi non carborundum!_**

* * *

_**To the Trolls, or should I say "Damaged People**__"__: _

_I look forward to deleting your reviews, reporting you, and dancing on your cyber-graves. When you say you will stop reading the story because you don't approve of my take on a fictional character, __**then please stop reading**__. I can't help but wonder if it's a form of OCD that keeps you coming back to read even after you vow desperately not to do so. There's medication for that you know. It won't offend me if you don't come back._

_If you're like this online, I can only imagine what you are like in real life. I feel pity for your family, neighbors, co-workers, and most of all you, because you didn't deserve whatever happened to make you the way you are. I hope you can overcome it and cease attempting to lash out at others._

_My best passive aggressive wishes!_

* * *

_**Note to readers: (Guess I'm taking my stand!)**_

_Thank you readers for your support via private messages and reviews. To those who replied as guests with positive messages, I want to make sure I say that my anger was not toward the constructive guest reviewers, but rather those unstable trolls who enjoy causing emotional harm to others. See my post in the forums regarding trolling. Maybe if enough of us raise a stink, they'll do something!_

_They say, don't let the assholes get you down. Unfortunately two weeks ago there must have been something in the water as it became readily apparent that there were plenty of "trolls" to be found on this site. I wasn't the only victim and honestly, my troll wasn't as bad as some others I've heard about. I spent a day of dealing with someone I beta that was trolled into tears. It makes for a rough day, when someone you care about and who has talent, is left in tears by someone who clearly has mental health issues – it's really tough. Unfortunately, there are a few unstable trolls on this site, based on reading through reviews on random stories yesterday. My personal troll has been around my reviews for roughly six weeks. I know who she is in terms of a pen name on this site, but will not disclose her identity without proof could be taken as slander._

_A note to Ina & Yocasta, who sent me a guest review German & Italian respectively (thank you Google Translate!). _

_**Ina**__ - Ich danke Ihnen für Ihre freundlichen Worte und Gott sei Dank für Google übersetzen! Ihre Worte wurden sehr geschätzt. Ich wünschte, ich Deutsch sprach, aber leider kann ich nur sprechen Spanisch, Englisch, Katalanisch, und etwas Portugiesisch. Sie sind genial und ich hoffe, Gogle Übersetzen bekam dieses Recht. Ana-_

_**Yocasta**__, Lei ha assolutamente ragione. Non posso permettere loro di inseguire me fuori del sito e la scrittura. Apprezzo le tue parole incoraggianti! Grazie!_

_So after reading some encouraging reviews and private messages, I've realized that I/We can't allow the trolls to win. I wasn't alone. I had plenty of authors on this site PM me with their troll tales. So I've decided that I'm going keep writing as a proverbial slap in the face to the anonymous trolls and I'm asking others to please add the tagline to their stories, at either the start or the end of the chapters, that reads:_

_**Nurture the creative flame, don't extinguish it!**_

_**Stop literature bullying now!**_

_In the words of Bartels & James from all those ads years ago, **we thank you for your support!**_

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Paralysis**

It's been three months since Anastasia's viral video and even longer since I had a submissive. Elena has been badgering me almost daily for what feels like ages now, sending me new submissive pictures and limits, yet I've told her repeatedly that I'm trying to distance myself from the lifestyle. She's worse than the media. She just won't go away. I heard Sawyer assign her code name Herpes a last week. It was amusing.

I haven't heard much from Anastasia other than text or emails since she was released from the hospital after her live interview. She'd spent a few days there being treated for a minor blood clot to the brain, which caused her headaches, intermittent periods of blurred vision, and some balance issues. Elliot said what we saw on the live interview was Anastasia as she always is, though a little less shy because of Kate. She's shy and can be feisty, or as Elliot calls her,_ Sheisty_. According to Sawyer the doctors said the blood clot was a complication from her last surgery, but she was doing really well now and completely recovered from both the accident and the shooting. I'm relieved.

After being released from the hospital, she returned to Montesano for two weeks, before returning to Seattle. According to Elliot it was nice to see her slowly come out of her shell and start to take control of her life. She found a job at a large hardware store in the evenings, six hours per day, five days per week; went into intensive one-on-one therapy with Flynn, along with weekly group therapy for abuse victims; volunteered at a few local charities including a food bank for a few hours per week, and at Coping Together every Saturday for another eight hours before heading to her shift at the hardware store. My mother pulled Kate into volunteering, who dragged Anastasia along. Each was assigned a mentor for their first year so they can learn the ropes. Other than that, Elliot said she was locked away in her bedroom spending a ridiculous amount of hours on her computer writing her novel.

Like Anastasia, I've spent an inordinate amount of time visiting with Dr. Flynn since her accident. It's a miracle that our paths haven't crossed there. Since our Zoolander movie night, part of me felt like it was Anastasia's way of forgiving me, but also that she was throwing the ball in my court in terms of our friendship. It left me feeling overjoyed, yet at the same time catatonic. I've never been just friends with a woman, unless you count Ros, but let's be real, she has bigger balls than I do. Hell, where Ana's concerned, I want more from her, yet I'm terrified if I push too fast, I'll scare her away.

The entire friendship-slash-relationship thing is outside my scope of knowledge and way outside my comfort zone. No matter how encouraging and guiding Flynn is – I'm adrift in a sea of uncertainty, so rather than try, I've allowed our interaction to be limited to occasional text messages and even fewer emails. All the while, being consumed by the lack of control I have over this one portion of my life. As much as I've tried to manipulate Flynn, he's treating both of us, so he can't disclose anything to me that she states in her sessions. He's had to walk a fine line between us and he's done a great job of it. This just pisses me off and at the same time makes me appreciate him more – yet another dichotomy in my life. I have the satisfaction of knowing that he protects my secrets, yet I can't access hers. Fucking Flynn is in control. _FUCK!_

While it's been overwhelming on one front, it's helped me grow closer to my family, and for the first time ever, I really allowed myself feel like I'm actually part of it. Elliot, my dad, and I now have a _guys night_ every other week where we either head to a sports event, sail, fish, or on occasion, head to the nearest batting cage. Even I've been shocked at how much I enjoy those days after my initial hesitance about them. It feels normal.

My mother is thrilled at the progress I've made these past months. All it took was allowing myself to hug her and be hugged by her. The first few times were awkward and I nearly had an anxiety attack, but after that I started to relax. Hell, even Elliot has taken to swatting me on the back when he greets me. A few months ago, if he did that, I would have reflexively taken a swing at him. I'm getting used to it now.

In so many ways, my life is better, yet I know I still have secrets from my family when it comes to Elena and my previous lifestyle. I want Anastasia Steele in my life. I, Christian Trevelyan Grey, want more. Now I understand all too clearly, what some of my submissives felt. I can empathize with them. Who'd have thought, the man who lacked empathy, discovered it, and it fucking hurts. I feel like the Grinch on Christmas morning. It both sucks, because I now understand how empty my life has been, but it's also wonderful, because I finally have allowed myself to feel like I'm truly part of this family. I value it more than I ever have, yet beneath is the almost overwhelming fear that my family will discover my secrets and I'll lose what I now treasure most – them. It's absolutely terrifying.

As a favor to my father, here I sit on a late, rainy, Friday afternoon reviewing the financial records of Seattle Independent Publishing. Financially they are in the toilet due to poor financial management, shoddy contracting, and the inability to secure new talent. The doors will shut in under four months unless they pull off a miracle or are purchased by a larger company, but as they are now, they are only good as a tax write off. They've lost almost all credibility in the industry. It would take a large infusion of cash over a period of a few years before there would be a chance at making a profit and even then, it was iffy as many publishers were in financial turmoil. E-books and self-publishing were more commonplace, so traditional publishers needed to adapt, merge, or close. Publishing a novel didn't require a literary agent or a traditional publisher anymore, just a good editor, brains, and Internet savvy.

Because of Anastasia and her love of books, I've had Ros keep her eye on the local publishing companies. Locally, there are three that are viable to turn around, SIP, and one little upstart that has two of their first five books in the top ten e-books in the country right now and another three are in the top fifty and climbing. Ros is watching the _little e-book engine that could_, as she calls E-House Publishing LLC to see if it has any follow up success or if it's a fluke.

Gwen, Ros's better half, is an avid reader, stay-at-home mom, and a former editor for Harper Collins has been watching E-House since their first published book went to the top of the best sellers list. She'd read all of their published works – all five, and stated they had a knack for spotting untapped talent. If anything, I'd take a risk on E-House before SIP.

After a long drawn out call with my father regarding SIP, I call it a week. Tonight I am having dinner with Elliot and Kate at their place. It should be interesting as neither of them can boil water. Sawyer even provided me with an antacid on the way over – just in case.

Taylor and Gail were off this evening due to a play at Sophie's school. Since Sawyer returned to work all I've wanted to do is ask him about Anastasia. I know he'd gotten close to both her and Ray, so he probably knew exactly what was going on with her new life. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It could be perceived as being too intrusive. I was so obsessed with the possibility of scaring her away, that I laid the first drip of the ocean growing between us by not walking through the movie night door she opened a few months ago. _Yes, I'm fifty shades of lost sometimes._

Over the past few months Kate and Elliot have gotten serious. Elliot sold his bachelor pad and moved in with Kate, while Grey Construction built their new house. They've been engaged for just a few weeks, even though they'd only been dating for a few months before that. I'm hoping Anastasia will be there even if she is locked away in her room writing, I know Elliot can coax her out for a visit. He had the ability to talk people into just about anything. He could convince Satan to French kiss the Pope or even vice-versa. Hell, he even got Kate to be civil toward me. _Fucking miracle! Note to Pope: Canonize Elliot after forgiving his carnal sins._

I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived at the apartment that they'd ordered food from Gaudi, an excellent Spanish restaurant. No wonder they wanted me to bring a Spanish wine. I was disappointed that Anastasia wasn't home. Elliot commented that she was working until ten, but she wasn't coming home tonight as she was heading to her new apartment because the cable installer was coming first thing in the morning.

"She's moving? Why?" I asked curiously. More importantly I wanted to know where. She couldn't live in a safe area on what she earned at the hardware store. I know because I've kept an eye on her.

"The new house will be done in six weeks," Kate explained with a frustrated sigh. "This place goes on the market next week. I offered to rent it to her on the cheap side, but she refused stating it's time she stood on her own two feet." Kate rolled her eyes. "I'm worried about her Christian. You know in a halfway decent neighborhood a one bedroom apartment, hell even a studio apartment in Seattle isn't cheap and she won't tell us where she's moving to, which means she's probably embarrassed by the area."

"I don't think Ray would allow her to live in an unsafe area," Elliot sighs. "Not after everything his little girl has been through."

"You need to remember, shy, demure, little Anastasia can be headstrong and defiant," Kate muttered in exasperation. "I mean, Ray offered to help her replace her Wanda, but Ana shut him down. If it weren't for Sawyer teaching her about car repair every Sunday and helping her restore the damned thing, she'd be busing it late at night, and I'm sorry, that's just not safe. And that's not even the worst of it."

"What do you mean?" I can't help but ask.

"I dragged Ana to volunteer with me at Coping Together and we were each assigned a mentor. Mine is great, but Ana's is just that awful woman Elena Lincoln. I mean I know she's a friend of your family, but she gives me the fucking creeps. I don't like her around Ana. She's trying to fix her up with this guy Eric Dali who's even creepier than Mrs. Lincoln is if that's possible. I've warned Ana about them, but she believes they are fine. She's so naive sometimes that I want to choke her."

Just listening to Kate has my anxiety level climbing through the roof. How the fuck did Anastasia get teamed up with Elena? When I ask Kate, her answer shocks her – my mother teamed them up after Mrs. Lincoln practically begged her to pair them together. _Fuck!_

"Sawyer!" I yell, causing him to rush in from the hallway.

"Sir," he replies calmly.

"How much do you know about Anastasia's involvement with Coping Together?" I ask as I run my fingers through my hair – it's my bat-signal that indicates I'm ready to blow.

I can see him hesitate for a moment before he replies. "She's there Wednesday afternoons for a few hours and Saturdays volunteering. Beyond that, she doesn't say much about it, though I know she is enjoying helping."

"We are concerned about her well-being while she is there," I reply taking Sawyer by surprise. I know what he's thinking, it's a Grey charity; it should be secure. I make certain his eyes are fixed on mine when I add, "Miss Kavanagh is concerned because she dislikes Anastasia's mentor, Mrs. Lincoln. Would you be open to watching over that situation and making sure she is secure whenever she is with Mrs. Lincoln or her associates?"

"You know I will sir, after all, it's Ana," he replies struggling to maintain his impassive stance.

"Thank you Sawyer," I reply dismissing him.

Dinner was filling – good food, good conversation, and we watched the Real Madrid game Elliot taped Wednesday. The agreement we had was neither of us was supposed to watch the game or check the score before we got to watch it. I didn't care about the game though. I was distracted worrying about Anastasia. I couldn't allow Elena to get her talons into my girl. Well, one day I hoped she'd be my girl.

I know the car ride to Escala will be filled with questions on his part. Between now and then, I need to figure out how to place Sawyer as Ana's CPO without jeopardizing their friendship or pushing her away. What the hell does Elena want with Anastasia? Is she trying to turn her into a submissive? It won't work, well at least not based on my experience with her, but Elena is manipulative and that, more than anything, concerns me.

No sooner than Sawyer and I were heading back to Escala, I said, "I want to have this conversation once, so when we get back to Escala, we'll have a meeting of the minds with Taylor."

"I'll make sure he's ready sir," Sawyer replied before clicking on his hands free and making the call.

During the ride I decide to reach out to Anastasia. I need to make sure Elena isn't screwing with her head. Chicken shit that I am, I send a text.

_**Grey:**__ Good evening Anastasia. Are you free for lunch tomorrow?_

_**Ana**__: Sorry Mr. Grey, I'm volunteering tomorrow from 12-5 if my cable installer arrives on time._

_**Grey:**__ What about dinner then?_

_**Ana:**__ I'm working at the hardware store from 6 to close tomorrow._

_**Grey:**__ Sunday then?_

_**Ana:**__ I have plans with my dad and Luke all day Sunday. I'll be out of town._

_**Grey:**__ Lunch Monday?_

_**Ana**__: I'm working at the food bank Monday from 8 to 3, after that getting a haircut before heading to work from 5 to close. Sorry Mr. Grey._

Anastasia Steele has to be the single most frustrating woman I've ever known. I can't help but feel she's trying to avoid me, but I'm pulled out of the beginning of my self-loathing tailspin when my phone vibrates.

_**Ana:**__ Are you a morning person Mr. Grey?_

_**Grey:**__ I am._

_**Ana:**__ I have a 6 am business meeting at Voxx Coffee House on Eastlake. If all runs smoothly I'll be out of there with my contract in hand by 6:30. The cable installer is due between 9 and noon, so, if you'd like, we can have breakfast. I was going to Bubba's Crepe House after that to grab some of their decadence to take home, but if you are free, perhaps we can have breakfast there._

_**Grey:**__ Bubba's at 7 it is then. Good night Anastasia._

_**Ana:**__ Sweet dreams Mr. Grey._

* * *

There is nothing better than late on a Friday night being summoned to an eleven pm meeting with the boss. Gail is warm and cozy in our bed, and I'm stuck here. This had better be good. All Luke texted me right before they headed back was _Elena Fucking Lincoln_. He didn't need to say more. I know the boss was trying to avoid her like the plague. It's hard to believe one little co-ed could have such an impact on his life, especially since he hasn't seen her in months.

Ana opened the proverbial door with movie night, but so far, Grey's just staring at it like it will do tricks. He's used to women throwing themselves and their cleavage at them. The one time he pursued someone, well, Ana set his dysfunctional ass straight. The rug was pulled out from under him and months later he's still off-balance.

I expected Elena Lincoln to be an issue at some point. I mean she's bombarding him with pictures and contracts for a new submissive for months now. Hell, she's stalking him worse than he stalked Miss Steele, and that's saying something. Now at least we know where the boss acquired his stalking skills. Now if that fucking bitch would get her talons out of him, my life would be simple.

It's been nice to see the boss spend time working through some issues. He's spent more time with family over the past few months than he had in the past four years. His sessions with Flynn appear to be constructive. Gail has been thrilled to watch him adapt. Heck, he's even asked her advice on occasion with regard to Miss Steele, but regardless of the advice provided, he remains paralyzed. I'd say it's amusing if I didn't feel bad for the guy.

Luke's been back for a few weeks now. I know it took some convincing to get him to come back as having spent so much time with the Steele's and knowing how Grey felt about Ana, he felt his loyalties were split. Luke was the first in his family to join the military and go to war. His father was unable to grasp what soldiers go through, but the friendship he struck up with Ray Steele became important to him. Hell, Ray became important to the four of us – Luke, Reynolds, Ryan, and even me. He understands where we are coming from. He's been there after all. In Ray, Luke found a surrogate father on that one issue and an outlet. In the end, it was Ray, who convinced him to remain working for Grey. How do I know? Well, I was there the night of that conversation – just three ex-military guys in a bar.

Leave it to Ray to point out something we'd all missed – if Maggie Jameson ditched the stolen car near Mount Saint Helen's, how did she get back to Seattle? She was winging it based on the timeline and her impulsive actions, so she couldn't have planned where she was ditching the SUV. How the fuck did we all miss that? I feel like a keystone cop.

We checked, there were no records of her renting a car, no signs of hitchhikers in the area where the car was ditched, no hotel record either. The only conclusion we could draw was she had help. Now whether that help was intentional or just some schmuck now afraid of jail time that she pulled into it, we didn't know. But in the end, it was Ray who found the hole in the neat package the Seattle PD and the Troopers put together.

Since that conversation took place, I had a member of Welch's team keep an eye on our Miss Steele when she wasn't at work or with Luke. I will admit, there was a part of me that was shocked at how much time Ana spent with Sawyer when he wasn't at work. A little part of me wondered if there wasn't more than friendship there. Gail tried to knock that out of my head really fast when she reminded me that Sawyer liked the ladies a little too much and his predilection was toward redheads. Still, I was going to keep an eye on that situation. The boss would be devastated – well, after he tried to kick Sawyer's ass. In a fight, I'd put my money on Sawyer.

By the time Sawyer and the boss arrived and we sat in the security room all I wanted to do was sleep. That ended quickly when the boss informed me that Ana was volunteering at Coping Together, which I knew, but her mentor was none other than Elena Fucking Lincoln. He rambled on about the bitch introducing Ana to a Dom even more screwed up than the troll herself was. I texted Welch the details on Eric Dali and requested an in-depth background check. I knew Ana wasn't _that_ type of girl, but Grey wasn't a slouch and the bitch got her claws into him. When he mentioned something about Ana signing a contract tomorrow morning at Voxx, I made sure I'd send someone there to watch over her and hopefully get details.

"Lastly, Anastasia is moving out of Miss Kavanagh's apartment. I want you to find out where she is going to live and make sure she has covert security," the boss ordered. I could tell he was nervous with Sawyer present. "Given Miss Steele's financial situation, I highly doubt she will be living in a decent neighborhood."

The boss and I turned to Sawyer, who was now shifting uncomfortably in his chair. I'm certain he knows where Ana is moving to, but not offering the details to us. Frankly, I don't blame him. The boss has changed a lot in the past few months, but still has a long road ahead of him. "Just say it Luke," I order.

He turns to Grey and asks, "Permission to speak freely without consequence Sir?"

The boss nods reluctantly.

"Look, I understand that you like Ana. I really do, but I'm stuck in the middle here. I'm her friend but I also work for you. It's the reason I almost didn't come back to work. I'm loyal to my friends and loyal to my employer, but this thin line I've been skating since I came back, well, it's got to end. I know you've been watching her twenty-four seven since the accident. I've seen the surveillance team when we spend time together," Sawyer snaps before turning to me. "And T, how the fuck can I be your second in command if there's shit going on you don't tell me about? I know whatever happened to Ana is probably not fully over. There's another person who helped Jameson, but we need to make sure she knows to be careful."

"I forbid it. I don't want her to worry," Grey snaps at Luke.

"Unfortunately Mr. Grey, you can't forbid me to tell her. Ray told me his theory before he even mentioned it to Taylor, so technically it's not covered by the NDA I signed," Sawyer snapped back bitterly.

"If you tell her you are fired," the boss explodes, but I have to hand it to Sawyer, he just laughs.

"Mr. Grey, I don't need this job. I've done decently for myself investing my salary. Well that, plus two jobs ago I had a morbidly obese female billionaire sexually harass me. While disgusting, it was worth the settlement," Sawyer shivers.

It's amusing to see Luke _'I'll screw any redhead with a hot body and decent personality_' Sawyer shiver at the thought of his harasser. I mean, Sawyer's six-six plus and the biggest guy on the security team. Hell, even I wouldn't want to go head to head with him when he's pissed off. I've seen it. The aftermath is not pretty. He's a protective guy. That happens when you have three older sisters who he'd protect with his life. I'll always remember that night in the bar in Texas, when Grey gave us the night off. Four douche bags were harassing a teeny tiny waitress. Sawyer made short work of those guys a split second after the first one touched her.

"Have you ever been in combat Mr. Grey?" Luke asks.

The boss shakes his head no. Sawyer knew the answer to that question. I know the point he's about to make.

"You never forget the people who stand by your side on the battlefield. You bond with them. They are your brothers. In this case, she's like a kid sister to me," he continues more quietly as he hands the boss his GEH identification card. "I'm done here. I choose Ana and her Ray over my job. I can protect her better if I'm not here all the time and I know she'll allow me to do just that once I tell her Ray's suspicions."

The boss looks stunned as Sawyer gets up and starts emptying his pockets. After he leaves his GEH issued gear including numerous work identification, car keys, credit card, note pad, phone and other electronics. Before he turns to leave, he warns the boss one last time. "Right now, she's safe, happy, and moving forward with her life. You and your former lifestyle are like kryptonite to her, so if you want to date her, then date her, but she's not your sub. She's not to be disrespected or beaten and fucked like a plaything you can discard. You disrespect her and you deal with me. I promise you, it won't be pretty."

I can see the boss slowly stand and his posture change. He's in Dom mode. "Who do you think you fucking are Sawyer?"

Sawyer smirked as he glared down at him. Nope, the boss didn't intimidate Luke one bit. It was impressive. "What if someone tried to take your sister Mia to a playroom like yours where he disrespected her, beat her and fucked her without regard for her well-being? Would anything stop you from destroying the guy? Now consider this, I've got six inches in height on you, fifty pounds of muscle, ex-special forces, and all kinds of paramilitary training. It's why you hired me after all. Just stay on the path you've been on the past few months and we won't have a problem."

The boss merely nodded as he contemplated Luke's words.

"Enjoy Bubba's tomorrow," Sawyer said knowingly as he walked toward the elevators. "Ana's favorites are the dulce de leche crepe and the nutella crepes. She keeps trying to get them to combine the two and add shaved peanut butter cups in them but they won't budge. Perhaps you'll have better luck getting them to do it for her. Oh and don't try to eat off her place or she'll lightly poke your hand with her fork. She protects her precious crepes."

The boss looked at me uncertainly as Sawyer waited for the elevator. "He's playing the role of big brother sir. The ball is in your court. We can't afford to lose him. Ana will listen to him, so you're better off with Luke on your side."

I waited for the boss to give me a signal regarding letting Luke walk or not. Frankly, I think they both want the same thing – to keep her safe. Finally the boss orders me to bring Sawyer back, make him Ana's CPO, give him a raise, and his own small team. He decided to tell Ana his concerns in the morning about Jameson potentially having an accomplice.

Why do I feel like I'm the one who's going to be walking the tightrope around both of them now?


End file.
